The Women in His Life
by ke0212
Summary: This story is a companion piece to my story, "Just a Glimpse",with the same premise, that Martin continues to work as a London surgeon. Many of the characters from that story appear here and, if you haven't read it, you may want to read it for reference. I hope you will enjoy the continuing saga of the Ellinghams as they engage in the life of their extended family.
1. Chapter 1

_**The Women in his Life**_

 **Chapter One**

"What now?!" Margaret's car sputtered as she urged it up the steep incline. The road to the small village overlooking the coast was rugged, narrow and winding, with a steep cliff face on one side and on the other, a rushing stream dodging and leaping over rocks as it made its way down the mountain. Despite her efforts, the car stalled. "Damn! Persephone! It's not that steep. You can do better than this." Margaret was in the habit of talking with her car, whom she had christened Persephone, in times of stress, and she was definitely stressed right now. The directions to her new hairdresser's salon had been confusing and now she had less than twenty minutes to find the shop and park her car. Traffic was backing up behind her with horns blaring and drivers shouting epithets. She glared into her rearview mirror and let loose several unladylike epithets. She really didn't need this setback.

She restarted the car, slammed the gear into drive and continued on her way, dodging various pick-up trucks and sports cars flying down the hill. Finally, she reached the turnoff to the village. Once she crossed the stone bridge that marked the entrance to the village, the streets levelled off and the traffic eased. She let out a sigh of relief and began to search for the salon. There were no road signs along the narrow twisting cobblestone streets, and she pulled over to the side of the road to gather her bearings. She glanced briefly down the slope she had just climbed to see the sea sparkling far beyond the red roofs of the coastal town. She could just make out the white-washed villas and manicured grounds of the exclusive resort where her villa was nestled close to the sea here in Portugal's Algarve region. She checked her watch and noted that she had less than ten minutes till her appointment, no time to enjoy the view.

"Whatever was Rosemary thinking when she recommended this woman," she muttered to herself as she fumbled with the paper where she had scribbled directions to the salon. She could feel the bile rising in her throat and she almost turned back, furious with Portugal, furious with the car, and especially furious with Rosemary; but she was desperate to find a competent hairdresser and Rosemary had assured her that this woman was one of the best.

She looked down the street heading into the village and recognized one of the landmarks described in the directions, a small sandstone church just a hundred yards or so after the bridge. She put the car in gear and crept slowly into the narrow lane. "Turn left at the church and drive another 50 yards and the salon was on the right." Yes, there it was. Now to find a place to park.

"Ah, there's a spot Persephone," she cried as she caught sight of a space just a few yards past the salon. "Let's see if you can squeeze in there." She had perfected her parking technique in the last several years and she expertly eased Persephone into the tight spot between a rusting truck and a sleek Mercedes with several minutes to spare.

Turning off the engine, she sat back for a moment and took a few deep breaths. She prided herself on her poise and composure, always appearing cool and confident, completely unflappable. The drive up to the salon had certainly disturbed her usual equanimity. Now that she had collected herself, she glanced into the mirror and pulled her compact out of her purse to touch up her make-up. First impressions were so important, especially when meeting a new beautician. She wanted this woman to appreciate having a sophisticated London socialite for a client. She opened her door and stood up, smoothing the front of her skirt, and looked around. Noting the peeling paint on most of the shops and the litter hugging the curbs, once again she almost turned back. But she was desperate. If this woman was as good as Rosemary had said, she could manage a little shabbiness.

She walked past the storefront that housed the salon Rosemary had recommended. Like the rest of the shops on the street, it seemed tired, not nearly as "au courant" as the boutiques she usually frequented. She slowed, turned her head, and sniffed, roasting meat and something else, something not quite so pleasant. Best not to contemplate just what that could be, she decided, but she scanned the pavement for possible detritus just in case there was something to be avoided nearby.

Why Rosemary felt the need to move back to England after living in Portugal for the past twenty years was beyond understanding. "And i _t certainly is inconvenient_ ", Margaret thought to herself, as she heaved a sigh. She felt betrayed; hadn't she always treated Rosemary with complete respect, tipping her handsomely at each visit and extra at the holidays, always complimenting her on her work. She prided herself on her ability to find the best help and treat them fairly. Even so, they never think of the inconvenience to their customers when they move on.

It had taken her a more than a year to find a good hairdresser after they had moved to Portugal eleven years ago. First there had been Vivian who always insisted on trimming her hair entirely too short, and then there was Bernadette who wanted to add blond highlights, asserting that they would give her a more youthful look. She gave in, hoping that her husband might find the result alluring, but that didn't work out as planned. _"What did you do to your hair?"_ he exclaimed the moment he saw her _._ He continued, taunting her, _"You look ridiculous, trying to look half your age. Nobody's fooled. Change it back."_ He could be so cruel when he wanted. She had actually liked the highlights and thought about keeping them just to confound him, but in the end, she changed them back. One must choose one's battles, and this was not a battle really worth fighting. There would be others in future she would want, she would _need_ to win, others where standing up to Christopher would be more important.

After Bernadette, there followed a succession of beauticians, none of whom were able to style her hair in a fashion which she thought was most complimentary. Finally, her friend Pamela had recommended Rosemary, and Rosemary was an artist. Margaret was always pleased with her work, and when Rosemary suggested the occasional update to her look, it always generated compliments from others in her set, and even, upon occasion, from her husband.

Now, Rosemary had returned to England to live near her children and grandchildren. " _The little ones grow up too fast_ ," she told Margaret. " _Already Charlie is nine years old. He'll be away and running his own business before you know it. Trixie is almost seven. I want to be a part of their lives before I'm too old to enjoy them, and now that Roger has married, and he and Georgia are expecting, ... well, I just want to be there for the new little 'un_." Rosemary assured her that Miriam was excellent and that Margaret would be pleased with her work.

So here she was. The shop was definitely not impressive, located on this seedy side street in a little village several kilometres into the foothills above the gated golf resort where she and Christopher had settled after he had retired from surgery. She had to wonder whatever had possessed any self-respecting English woman to move to such a place. Of course, she may have been projecting her own values on this Miriam. Stylists were frequently free spirits who didn't give a fig what respectable society thought. And she _was_ Cornish; weren't they a breed apart, always quick to identify as Cornish, not English, as if being Cornish were an exclusive club of some sort. Margaret raised her head and closed her eyes, thinking of her husband's sister Joan who had fled down to Cornwall with that farmer and had become just as eccentric as all the other "nutters" who lived down there.

Her appointment was for 2pm, another minute or two. She could arrive early, but instead she turned around to stroll past one more time and casually glance in the window. There appeared to be three stations, although it was difficult to be certain because each station was separated by a privacy screen. Neither the client not the stylist could be seen from the outside. Margaret liked that. It was comforting to know that the beautician could work her magic whilst her privacy was maintained during the less than glamorous process. She turned on her heel and sauntered back to the shop and opened the door.

She could hear chattering coming from the back of the shop, all of the voices women except for one very masculine voice trilling on in rapid Portuguese with a high-pitched woman's voice talking over his in equally rapid Portuguese tones. She could swear there was a conversation in Spanish as well and then she picked up the English conversation with a voice she recognized as Miriam's with the modulated Cornish accent and another in refined London tones, thanking her for the perfect cut.

She took a seat in the small reception area just inside the door and picked up a magazine with beauty tips, pretending to flip through the pages whilst listening to the conversations, trying to gauge the sense of the place. Would it be a salon where she would feel comfortable? She could hear the London client describing the latest production at Teatro das Figuras; Margaret had been to that production just last weekend and wasn't impressed. That was the biggest drawback to living here in the south of Portugal; the cultural opportunities were extremely limited. One had to travel to Lisbon for a truly outstanding experience. Christopher was content to play golf every day and spend the evenings in the club with his "mates". Golf … it was his passion, which was why he had insisted they retire here in the Algarve. Fortunately, there were others in their group who were as culturally starved as she, and they were able to travel up to Lisbon or over to Barcelona, every month or two for the latest shows and exhibits.

She set the magazine aside just as Virginia Battles, another resident of their private community walked out of Miriam's station and reached for the door. Virginia startled when she noticed Margaret. "Margaret, I didn't know you were a client of this salon. I don't believe I've seen you here before."

Margaret rose and straightened up to her full height, her posture perfect, chin tilted at just the proper angle, as she had been taught all those years ago. Thus armed, she faced Virginia, looking her up and down, evaluating her appearance. The woman looked stunning, her blond locks in a perfect cropped pixie cut which was just the right style for her petit figure. Margaret found herself complementing her acquaintance in an uncharacteristic manner, "Virginia, hello. No, this is my first visit. Miriam was highly recommended, and I can see why. You look marvellous my dear."

Virginia responded, somewhat taken aback by Margaret Ellingham's sudden warmth, "Thank you Margaret. I think you will be pleased. So good to see you." Turning to Miriam, "I'll see you next week, same time."

Miriam had stood by quietly watching the interaction of her long-time client with this new customer, taking the compliments in stride, "Yes Virginia, next Thursday, half twelve. See you then." Turning her attention to her new customer, she extended her hand, "Miriam Glasson. Welcome to my salon Margaret. Come through."

Miriam led her to the back of the shop, where there was a changing room with smocks in an assortment of colours and patterns. "Feel free to change into one of the smocks, and then we can discuss what I can do for you today." There were several lockers for clients to store their personal effects. Margaret changed out of her blouse and donned a pale green smock and secured her things in one of the cubicles.

She moved to the chair where Miriam was waiting for her, and as she described her preferences and desire for the day's style, she examined Miriam's station. It was equipped with all the most modern equipment, well organized and well-lit with a large mirror. She noticed that there were pictures of several children grouped on the edge of the station top and wondered who they were. Miriam was youthful but based on the crow's feet around her eyes and the look of her neck, Margaret estimated she had to be in her forties at least, more likely mid-fifties. She was dressed in loose-fitting slacks with an equally loose low cut short sleeved embroidered smock. She had gold loops dangling from her ears and a colourful stone necklace – very much an earth mother look. Her thick hair was pulled loosely into a knot at the base of her neck; the dark chestnut colour looked natural but could be the result of a bottle in the hands of a skilled colourist. Most likely the pictures were of her grandchildren; she sincerely hoped this Miriam wouldn't abandon her like Rosemary did. Perhaps it would be prudent to suss out just who these children were and the likelihood that she planned to stay in country. "Beautiful children. Are they in school while you are working?" Always best to indicate that one thinks one's beautician is younger than she is, puts you in her good graces.

Miriam laughed, actually it was more like a cackle, "Oh my no! Them's my grandchildren. Amelia and Abigail are my son Alan's girls. Amelia is twelve going on twenty and Abigail is nine, sweet and innocent, still my little girl. James is the youngest, my daughter's son. He just turned three this summer and smart as a whip he is, already starting to read. Of course, my daughter is a teacher and she encourages him. And his daddy is brilliant so you'd expect that, not that my Louisa isn't sharp as well. But little James comes up with the most interesting observations. Why I was just in Cornwall with him and the girls for two weeks this summer and he led me to some rock pools and informed me how the tide coming in and out brought fresh food for the crabs and other animals that lived there."

"Do you visit with them often?" Margaret asked conversationally, trying not to sound too inquisitive.

"Not as often as I should ... a week with Alan and the girls in summer and another week or two with Louisa in Cornwall in August. It's usually pleasant in England in August, and it's nice to get a break from the summer heat here. The rest of the year? Brrrr. Too cold in England for me … you know what I mean? Louisa got married in December in Cornwall five years ago ... thought I would freeze to death. I still don't know what she was thinking!"

"Yes, I agree. I find England far too cold these days. So, you don't plan on moving back to live near the children like Rosemary has?"

"Not this hot weather momma. 'Course, I expect each of them to visit me at least once a year. That's often enough. They usually come in the winter for a nice short break from the weather. The children are sweet, but what can you do with them after you've taken them to the beach and read a book or two?"

"Mmmmm ... yes." Margaret understood completely. She never knew what to do with Martin when he was a child. She just wasn't the motherly type and he was so needy, always clinging to her skirts, wanting her to pick him up and carry him when he was small. The nannies were just so much more capable. She had tried her best to love him, she really had, but she had felt completely unprepared for the demands of motherhood; and, even though her friends claimed he was an adorable baby, she found him to be an unattractive, awkward child. How she and Christopher, who was an incredibly attractive man even now, had produced such an ugly child was still a mystery to her. And then there were the responsibilities that came with being a successful surgeon's wife and maintaining their position in society; there was just no time for tending to a needy whinging child. That was one of the reasons she sent him off to boarding school. At least there he had other boys to play with.

She let Miriam natter on about her family. For someone who feigned disinterest in spending time with her children and grandchildren, she certainly enjoyed regaling her clients with stories about them. As she was leaving the salon, Margaret took one last look in the mirror and marvelled at Miriam's skill in styling her hair; Miriam was as skilled as Rosemary, perhaps even better. She felt quite beautiful, and she decided that if listening to Miriam natter on about her grandchildren was the price she would be required to pay for such talent, then she was more than willing to let her talk. She paid her tab and added a large tip before making an appointment for the same time next week.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Margaret had a few errands to run after leaving the salon before meeting her friends at the club for tea at five, and it was going on half four before she finished and slipped Persephone into the traffic on her way there. As usual, the traffic was terrible at this hour. When they had first moved to Portugal, she had demanded that Christopher pay for a driver to take her to the shops and to her various appointments; but after the first year, after he had learned to navigate the roads himself, he had insisted that she learn to drive. He pointed out that the savings they would incur would finance her frequent trips to Lisbon as well as one or more trips she might enjoy each year, perhaps to Barcelona or Paris. At first, she had resisted. They had always lived in London where one never needed a car, where driving oneself just wasn't done, not in their circle, but Christopher had been insistent. He signed her up for lessons which she had attended grudgingly despite the charm of her handsome instructor. She had never been behind the wheel of a car and driving had been unsettling at first, but after a few months of lessons, she found that she could be just as assertive as any other driver on the road. She also discovered that driving opened up whole new worlds, and she loved the thrill she felt when speeding down the highways. Unless traffic were at a standstill because of an accident or some idiotic road work, she was able to manoeuvre through the streets without any problem.

Margaret had never owned a car before Persephone, as she liked to call her, and she found the freedom that came with her automobile exhilarating. She had always been ever so proper, always following the etiquette rules in which she had been immersed from an early age, never straying from the boundaries of decorum that defined her position as the wife of an eminent surgeon. She had gone in search of something elegant and sophisticated, something that heralded her position in society, perhaps a navy BMW or Jaguar, but this little car with its saucy attitude had called out to her from across the dealer's lot; and for once, she threw caution and decorum to the wind. It was love at first sight and, after prudently taking a test drive, she asked the salesman, "When can I take her home?" Persephone was bright red, a MINI Cabriolet with personality; she was exciting and a little bit naughty, just like herself, Margaret liked to think.

She smiled as she took a corner at a speed that wasn't altogether safe, remembering Christopher's reaction when she first brought Persephone home, how shocked he was that she would buy a car without consulting him first. And the expression on his face when he saw Persephone, a convertible and bright red to boot! _"Whatever will our friends think", he cried._ She gave him a satisfied smirk and thought to herself, _"Yes, what will he and his friends think of me now? Perhaps there's more to Margaret Ellingham than they had ever imagined."_

She hadn't really thought why she had christened her car Persephone until her friend Carly asked. "I suppose I like the way her name rolls off my tongue", she answered. That was certainly true, but Carly's question triggered her curiosity about the Greek goddess' story. She learned that Persephone was married to Hades, the god of the underworld. He had abducted her from her mother Demeter, the goddess of agriculture and fertility, and he kept her in his cold underworld until her mother prevailed upon Zeus to command Hades return the girl. Unfortunately, whilst she was there, she had absentmindedly eaten a few kernels of pomegranate, the food of the dead, and because of that, she was consigned to live with him in his kingdom for several months every year. Whilst she was gone, all the earth turned cold and dark with winter. But once she was allowed to return, the earth burst forth with the new life of spring. The more she thought about the goddess and her trials, the more she realized that she herself was a bit like Persephone. It wasn't that life with Christopher was like living in the underworld; certainly, she had all the material possessions to which she was entitled by birth and marriage, all that she could ever want. It was just that he had become cold and uncaring and as a result, she had found herself growing cold, her life force withering within her. But when she opened the door and slid behind Persephone's wheel, she felt liberated, free from the dark confines of her indifferent husband and the restraints that society had always held for women in her position. She felt suddenly more alive.

Indeed, even in the late afternoon traffic that she was now encountering, she felt a sense of freedom whilst driving through the streets of the Algarve, a sensation she had never felt in the confines of upper crust London. She knew that heads were turning, certainly at the sight of her little car, but also at herself, the beautiful woman she knew herself to be. The attention was intoxicating, and feeling quite pleased with herself, she tilted her head even higher than she usually carried it and laughed with the sheer joy of the day.

Unfortunately, because the traffic had been heavier than usual that afternoon, she was a trifle late meeting her friends for their regular afternoon "tea" at the club. It appeared that others were held up as well because only Carlotta was seated at their usual table, drumming her fingers impatiently as she waited. Margaret made her way over, passing by the open patio doors where she noticed Christopher and his friends noisily enjoying their post-game drinks at the bar.

She paused for a moment, examining the group of men, most of them balding and portly, but not Christopher; even now, even with his thatch of white hair, Christopher was a handsome man. Only a few creases marred his otherwise well chiselled face. She had been lucky to catch him back when she was young. The chemistry between them had been irresistible; she could remember even now the sparks that flew whenever he touched her. Their romance had been heated and passionate. He was always touching her, glancing her way when they were out and about, unable to resist her charms; but somehow the romance had faded, he had lost interest. She shook her head, wondering how it had happened and sighed. In her heart she knew it was motherhood; he could never see her as the same woman after Martin was born.

She noticed Carlotta waving at her from their table, trying to get her attention. She lifted her hand in acknowledgement as she wandered slowly past the piano nodding at Angelo who was playing soft show tunes suitable to the late afternoon hour. She straightened her posture and patted her hair, then shared a conspiratorial glance with him as she glided past to join Carlotta, who sniped at her, "I've been here for ten minutes already. Where is everyone?"

Ignoring Carlotta's irritation, Margaret pulled out a chair and gently seated herself, gazing absently at the azure blue of the sea as it lapped the shores of the beach a few yards away, "I was in town and the traffic was abysmal. I suppose Sylvia and Portia must be delayed as well." She stared at the glass in Carlotta's hand, "What are you drinking this afternoon?"

Carlotta swirled the liquid in her glass, "Vinho Verde." It was a signature Portuguese wine and was considered the perfect afternoon drink.

Margaret turned up her nose and huffed, "I don't know how you can drink that swill." Margaret preferred her wines with a little more body, and she turned in her chair to signal the waiter just as one of their friends arrived, "Ah, here's Portia."

"About time you got here Tia. Maggie and I were about to give up on you and Sylvie." Carlotta was in a mood this afternoon. Drinking alone was not her style.

Margaret glanced over at Portia, "I just arrived a few minutes ago myself." And then, hardening her expression she turned toward Carly and chided her, "You know not to call me Maggie here at the club, Carly."

Carlotta rolled her eyes, "Oh, give it a rest Mags. Waiter!" She and Carlotta had been friends for years; they went way back to their school days and Carlotta knew just how to get under Margaret's skin. Portia pulled out a chair and plopped down. She had been a beautiful young woman and was still lovely, if truth be told, but she had filled out in middle-age and had resisted the call of the gym, relying on the skill of her seamstress to camouflage her ever expanding figure.

The waiter came over and took both Margaret and Portia's drinks order, asking if he could bring them anything to eat. Margaret quickly sent him on his way despite Portia's feeble attempts to ask for the menu. They would join the men for a full supper later in the evening and she was not going to be tempted to join Portia in spoiling both her appetite and her figure with afternoon appetizers. Christopher may have lost interest in her, but there had been other men over the years and several still who showed interest and she enjoyed the attention. She might not be part of the yoga or Pilates set, but she wasn't about to forfeit what sex appeal she still had to some savoury bites from the kitchen. She glanced Angelo's way; she was thinking that he might be an interesting diversion next month. Christopher would be attending a conference in Edinburgh, and he had discouraged her from joining him in Scotland; she was certain he had a tryst or two planned for the conference. No reason she shouldn't indulge herself whilst he was away.

Carlotta interrupted her reverie as she reached for her purse and pulled out a small picture album, "Diana has just sent me new pictures of Mindy and Reggie. Would you like to see them?"

Diana was Carlotta's daughter-in-law and was diligent about supplying her husband's mother with pictures of her grandchildren. Margaret sighed with the thought of making a show over her friend's "darling" grandchildren, but smiled wanly as she reached for the photos, "Certainly, I'm sure they have grown." She glanced briefly at the latest pictures of the two very handsome four-year-old twins, whilst Carlotta burbled on and on about their latest adventures. She mumbled the requisite "Mmm ...very cute", as she passed the pictures on to Portia, just as Sylvia arrived, out of breath.

"Oh, are those new pictures of Reggie and Mindy?" Sylvia leaned over Portia's shoulder to see, "Aren't they darling? I've got some new pictures of my four as well." As she sat down, she opened her purse. "Let me just pull them out."

Portia glanced over at Margaret who discreetly rolled her eyes. Neither she nor Portia had been "blessed" with grandchildren and their two friends, Sylvia and Carlotta, could talk about the grandchildren all evening. "Here, let me see Sylvie." Margaret took the pictures Sylvia had instantly produced, scanned them quickly and passed them over to Carlotta. "Yes, they are adorable." She turned to Portia and asked, "Are you planning a shopping trip up to Lisbon anytime soon? Christopher is going to a conference in three weeks and I was thinking it might be the perfect time to treat ourselves to a little couture and culture."

"A Cidade da Luz? What about your other plans?" Portia rolled her eyes in the direction of Angelo who was flirting with a blond middle-aged woman who had just come in from the tennis courts and was still glowing with the exertion of the game.

Margaret glanced his way and shrugged, "I'm sure I can fit that in as well. So … what do you think?"

"I think it's a good idea. I need to find something smashing for our fall charity ball. What do you ladies think?" Portia raised her eyebrows and ticked her head, first to Carlotta and then to Sylvia. They had their heads bent over the pictures of the children, ardently comparing the attributes of each child. "Ladies?" Portia repeated in a more demanding tone. Finally, they looked up and asked in unison, "What?"

"A road trip up to Lisboa? Some shopping, some theatre, some elegant dinners, perhaps a museum or two? What about it? Hmmm?"

"When?"

"Maybe three weeks? I'm sure we can book a nice hotel or perhaps a villa for the week. Doesn't it sound perfect?" Margaret knew Portia was always ready for a trip to the capital city and would be able to organize a fabulous week. She had friends everywhere who would guide them to the best restaurants and the best shops where bargains could be found. It was the only city in Portugal where she had been able to find evening wear that had that perfect combination of elegance and panache for which she was always known.

Carlotta twisted her mouth in thought, "I'll have to check with Geoffie first. He hates it when I go out of town, even for a day or two. I don't know about a week."

Carlotta kept close tabs on her husband; they had only been together for the past five years. Her first husband, Reginald, had died unexpectedly in a car crash several years before that and she counted herself lucky to have found Geoffrey Macgregor, a retired financier, who had lost his wife at about the same time.

"Isn't that when Morgan and Chris are going to that conference thing in Edinburgh?" Sylvia asked Margaret.

"Yes, it is. Christopher indicated that I needn't come, nothing for me to do there. I think he has other plans, if you get my drift." Margaret arched her eyebrows and pulled a face as she responded to Sylvia.

"Mmmm. Morgan told me the same thing. All day meetings and late-night networking he told me. They're both retired. Why do they need to network?" Sylvia replied with a bit of puzzlement in her voice.

"Oh Sylvie, don't be obtuse. They don't want us there so they can seek out other entertainment, as if two old codgers like them could ..." Margaret waved her hands and rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Whatever, as they say. Do you want to join us in Lisbon or not?"

"Might as well spend his money in Lisbon with you three than freeze to death in Scotland," Sylvia huffed, as she gradually realised what her husband had planned for Scotland.

"So, it's settled. Portia, can you find us accommodations? I can book us first class tickets on the Alfa Pendular ... unless one of you would prefer to drive?" Margaret looked round the table, "I thought not."

 **Author's note: Much thanks to my friend Apl9662 for the suggestion that a Cabriolet might be a car which Margaret Ellingham would enjoy driving. My initial reaction was, "Really?" and then, "Well maybe..." and then after considering the possibilities, "Oh yes!"**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Funny woman, that Margaret, typical London socialite … high and mighty." Miriam mused as she watched Margaret leave the salon. "Nice tipper though … don't usually bore my clients with stories of my grandchildren, but she did ask. And she seemed to be interested. I'll have to ask her about her family next week. "

She puttered around her station in preparation for her next client, gathering up her implements and placing them in the sanitizer, all the while thinking back to her two weeks in Cornwall this past summer with Louisa and Alan and their families. Certainly she enjoyed her time with the family, but two weeks was just about all she could manage. By the time Martin put her on the plane back to Portugal, she was ready to leave, ready for some peace and quiet.

She had stayed with Louisa and Joan at the farm because Alan and his family were in Louisa's old cottage in the village. The farmhouse was actually quite large and, because of several renovations Martin had made, it was very comfortable. Joan had moved into the ground floor suite that Martin had built when he renovated the house before he and Louisa married. " _Joan is getting older, but then_ _aren't we all?_ " Miriam chuckled to herself. Joan's arthritis had made getting around a little more difficult, not that she had slowed down much from her younger days. She had let out the hay fields to one of the neighbouring farmers, but she still tended to the chickens and the sheep and her large vegetable garden from which she supplied the green grocers in town and several of the local restaurants. Even so, she often commented, "I certainly don't miss the stairs at night after a full day working on the farm or making deliveries."

Despite the spacious accommodations at the farm, Louisa and James usually stayed in her village cottage whilst in Portwenn. Louisa enjoyed being part of village life and keeping current with all her old neighbours; but they decamped to the farm when Martin was down or when Alan and his family came to visit. Miriam had pegged Martin as antisocial from the first time she had met him and she suspected that his discomfort with the prying eyes of the village was the primary reason they moved to the farm when he was down. That and Joan, he really was devoted to his aunt. Plus, Louisa's cottage was too small for a man of Martin's size with its low ceilings and cramped rooms.

The additional renovations to the farm house he and Louisa had made two years ago made it a perfect family holiday home. On the first floor upstairs on one side of the central hall, there was now a large master suite with an en-suite bath and a separate study for Martin's use when he was down. Louisa had placed a single bed in the study where James could sleep on the occasions when they needed his room to accommodate extra guests. There were two comfortable bedrooms on the other side of the central hall with a bath that was tucked in a private nook between the two rooms. She had enjoyed one of those rooms and the sole use of the bath for all but the last two days of her visit when Ruth came down with Martin and took over the second bedroom. It really was a very comfortable family house.

Until Martin and Ruth arrived, it was just Louisa, James, and Alan's family, and Joan of course. They made a true holiday of their time in Cornwall this summer, spending many afternoons in the village visiting with old friends, exploring the rock pools and eating ice cream or fudge from the sweets shop in the village. Most days were sunny with a warm breeze and they took advantage of the balmy weather to take the children to the sandy beaches at Harlyn Bay and Daymer Bay. The water was warmer than you might think and the children enjoyed playing in the sand. With the help of Alan, Annie and Louisa, they built quite the grand sand castle. She smiled to herself and shook her head as the image of James helping the others build a sand castle floated across her mind's eye, " _How can a three-year-old know how to build the towers and walls so that they don't fall down? But he does, explaining exactly how to pack the sand in the buckets so that it holds its shape when it is turned over._ _I suppose his Dad explained the engineering concepts to him on an earlier trip._ _Even so, he's a clever little bugger … opinionated and bossy too. Takes after his Dad in more ways than one."_

They took a few side trips up to Tintagel and down to the Eden Project, visiting sights that she had never made time to see before she moved to Portugal all those years ago. The trip to Tintagel was strenuous, windy and cold, but the children seemed to enjoy it, or so they told her. She declined to join them and puttered through the many souvenir shops in town and found a lovely little tea shop where she could enjoy a cream tea and watch the tourists wander by the window. All three children were excited to tell their Mimi about the way the early tribes had lived and just where Arthur had held court. Louisa bought James a wooden toy sword and shield in the gift shop, and the girls came away with a King Arthur activity set and a "sword in the stone" snow globe. James loved playing with his sword, swinging it through the air pretending to slay dragons and chasing his cousins around the farm. After reprimanding him more than once, and after he whacked Abigail on the arm, she took it away and put it away for next year. Miriam shook her head as she remembered James with his sword, " _I don't know what Louisa was thinking when she bought that toy."_

The Eden Project was still under construction when Miriam moved to Portugal all those years ago, and she was amazed at the size and scope of the facility. On the day they went there, she spent the day wandering the gardens with Alan's wife Annie, enchanted by the plant specimens in the large biospheres whilst Louisa and Alan took the children on a tour of the project. Louisa had taken some of her Portwenn Primary classes to the Eden Project before she married, and she had a docent's knowledge of the facility. Miriam wasn't sure if the children would have enjoyed the trip if Louisa hadn't known which parts of the facility were interesting to children, and if she hadn't downloaded some of the "Spy Trails" guides provided for children to use in exploring Eden. James was really too young to use the guides, but the girls included him in their explorations and they all learned many interesting things about nature, probably more than Miriam and Annie did exploring by themselves.

Martin and Ruth didn't arrive from London until late the Thursday afternoon of her second week in Cornwall. They all were to celebrate James' third birthday on Friday, and she was scheduled to leave on Saturday. Alan and his family would drive back up to the midlands on Sunday morning, whilst Martin and Ruth would stay the following week. She still found Martin's nearly constant scowl and thoughtless remarks difficult to bear and she was glad that she only had to tolerate him for Thursday night and Friday. What her daughter saw in the man had been completely beyond her understanding the first few occasions she had spent any time with him. Of course, he did come with a comfortable London home and the farm in Cornwall which were certainly appealing; but a woman would want more in a husband, wouldn't she? However, over the past several years, she had observed the two of them in a few private moments and it soon became apparent to her that Martin adored Louisa. What woman wouldn't put up with a few eccentricities, or more, to be cherished so thoroughly?

She chuckled to herself remembering how she been in her room freshening up shortly after Martin arrived. She heard the three of them, Martin, Louisa and James climbing the stairs. James was beyond excited to see Martin; he was jabbering away excitedly, "Daddy, Daddy, can we go down to the cove and look for shells? Can we?"

"Yes James, as soon as I greet your mother properly and unpack."

"I can help you unpack, and then we can go down to the beach."

"Yes James." She heard Martin drop his bags on the floor. She was about to leave her room to go downstairs when she heard him say in a gentle loving tone, "Hello Mrs. Ellingham."

Miriam froze just outside her door waiting to hear what happened next. Louisa responded in a similarly loving tone, "Hello Mr. Ellingham."

Except for the sound of James moving around the room, it was quiet for a few moments and then Louisa sighed, "Mmmm."

Martin whispered, "I missed you", and Louisa replied in a muffled voice, "I missed you too." It was quiet for a moment and Miriam was certain that there would have been some serious snogging going on had James not been there. James' footsteps clattered across the room and he climbed onto the bed, bouncing up and down. Martin gave him a sharp rebuke, "James, you know better than to jump on the bed."

"Okay," James grumbled, reluctantly slipping off the bed with a loud thud. He sighed and then whined, "Finish kissing Mummy so we can go down to the beach." Miriam had to stifle a giggle. A few moments later Louisa sighed again, saying, "I suppose I should go downstairs. We need to start dinner."

"Right."

"Later then?" Her tone was full of anticipation.

"Yes." His voice held the same expectation as hers and Miriam had little trouble imagining what they had planned for later. Louisa took a step toward the door as Martin continued, "I'll unpack and take care of James. Do you need my help with dinner?"

"No, it will be fine. We already have more cooks than we can use."

Quickly Miriam slipped back into her room as Louisa headed down the stairs. She could hear James as Martin started to unpack his bag. "I can help Daddy. Where do these go?"

"Mmm. Put my pants in this drawer and then you can get my t-shirts and put them in there as well. I'll just hang up my suits in the wardrobe here."

She could hear James pattering back and forth, probably from Martin's bag to the dresser. "Here are your shirts Daddy."

"James! Don't drop them." Martin let loose a loud sigh. "I'll hang them up later. Perhaps we should leave for the beach now."

"Okay. Let's go." James was extremely excited as they started down the stairs. "We need to put our wellies on. Mummy says we always wear our wellies to the beach."

"Uh-hm. Yes, she is right."

xxxx

Just before dinner, Miriam cornered Louisa in the lounge and whispered, "How is Mr. Ellingham this evening, Mrs. Ellingham?" Louisa looked puzzled for a moment and then turned bright red and gasped, "Mum! Were you spying on us?"

"I just happened to be in my room when you came up."

"Right." It appeared Louisa didn't believe her, as she glared at her, hands on hips, with what Miriam assumed had been her "tell me the truth" look when she was head teacher.

"I didn't listen on purpose." And just because Miriam couldn't help herself, she grinned and added, "Special plans for later?"

"Mum!" Miriam laughed at her daughters reaction. Teasing Louisa had always been so easy.

Sure enough, later, after James was safely tucked in his bed, she noticed Louisa and her husband slip out of the house and walk hand in hand out to the cliffs. Yes, there was much more to that man than initially met the eye and he obviously made Louisa pretty happy despite his miserable demeanour.

The next morning, Martin was up early with James, letting Louisa have a lie-in, as he prepared a big healthy birthday breakfast. Once again, Miriam had to admit the man had many talents, and the breakfast he prepared was delicious. He cut up some melons and berries and boiled some eggs for protein and then prepared whole meal pancakes for all of them. For James, he made the pancakes in the shape of various animals, letting James assist in adding currants for the eyes and nose and in turning them over. Spread with fruit preserves over the top, they were a healthy and entertaining special breakfast for the little boy.

Alan and his family came over mid-morning and passed the day with James, wandering on the coastal path and wading in the water chasing crabs. She and Louisa joined them in the village for ice cream in the early afternoon while Martin shopped for dinner. Later in the afternoon, Louisa and Annie drove up to Delabole, where one of Louisa's friends had set up a bakery, and they picked up the birthday cake Louisa had ordered for the occasion. Martin was busy preparing the fresh fish and vegetables that he was planning to grill for a special birthday dinner when they walked into the kitchen. Martin took one look at the cake and bellowed, "Louisa, that cake is filled with fat and sugar, completely unhealthy. Why do you insist on offering that to our son?"

She just gave him a look, and said, "Martin, birthdays are special and cakes are traditional. It's not negotiable. Besides, everybody likes cake."

Somewhat chastised, Martin just huffed, "Mmmm ... I don't"

Louisa glared at him screwing up her mouth as he marched out the door, muttering under her breath, "Your loss."

Martin spent a few minutes on the terrace staring out to sea . She could see him clenching and unclenching his fists as he undoubtedly mulled over his wife's refusal to see his point of view. Finally he returned to finish his dinner preparations. Louisa went up to him and placing her hand gently on his back, smiled up at him, "Better now?"

Martin glared down at her and responded with a definite, "NO." Louisa gave him a quizzical look and he repeated in a softer tone, "Nooo ..." She reached up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and went back to her own tasks. Martin followed her with his eyes, and as the hint of a smile slipped across his lips, he went back to work.

Miriam didn't often see them argue, and she watched in fascination at their interaction, at first fearing their argument might spoil the party and then wondering what unspoken exchange had seemingly cleared the air. By the time dinner was on the table, all was back to normal, and the meal was exceptional. James loved being the centre of attention, and when they brought in the big chocolate cake with three big candles on top, his eyes grew wide with wonder. He was thrilled with his day and soon fell asleep after playing with his new set of farm animals and building a barn for them with his blocks. Whilst Martin settled James in his bed, the remaining adults enjoyed a rousing game of cards, and soon it was time for Alan and Annie to take the girls off to bed as well. Miriam was leaving the next day so the good-byes were profuse and emotional. She noticed that Martin hung back waiting for Louisa to be free whilst she and Louisa were fussing over the girls and helping them into the car, although he joined them in waving good-bye as Alan pulled the car away from the house. Miriam walked back into the house and then peered out the window to see Martin and Louisa slip away to wander the cliffs for a few minutes to themselves. "Looks like mum and dad are off for a little quality time, if you get my drift," she said to no one in particular.

Joan piped up in reply as she walked over to the window to escort Miriam back to the sofa, "Yes I imagine they are. Let's leave them to it. Would you like to join Ruth and me in a glass of whiskey?".

"Don't mind if I do". Miriam closed her eyes and smiled as she remembered the witty after dinner repartee the three women enjoyed, which was liberally greased by the honey undertones of Joan's favorite whiskey, _"delicious"_ she thought to herself as her next client walked in the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Louisa sighed as she watched her brother and his family drive away from the farm. She loved having her family about, but now, their time together was coming to an end. Martin would drive her mum to the airport tomorrow morning, and Alan and his family were planning to spend the next day visiting some old school friends who lived in Boscastle. They would leave early the next day for home. She wouldn't see any of them again until Christmas when they would all gather again in Portwenn. She would miss spending time with them.

It had been a very full day, with James' birthday celebration and the attending pandemonium, and she loved every minute. Even Martin seemed to tolerate the chaos this year. She would have to commend him for his patience later on. As her brother's car rumbled up the driveway, a quiet stillness descended over the farm, broken only by the intermittent bleating of the sheep and the cry of the occasional seagull. It was late, the summer sun retreating towards the sea, but there was still enough light for a casual stroll out to the cliffs. She could see a few intrepid hikers walking along the coastal path and she shook her head. They still had nearly two miles before they reached the village. Footing could be treacherous especially in the dark. She hoped the morning news wouldn't include an item about a walker slipping off the path and into the sea. It had happened before. However there was time for she and Martin to take a stroll and enjoy some quiet time, just to themselves. As if he had read her mind, he turned to her and said, "Shall we walk out to the cliffs?"

"I was just thinking the same thing."

"Good. I'll get your wrap."

Martin returned and helped her on with her cardigan and led her to the door.

Louisa peeked into the lounge and addressed Joan who had just poured herself a glass of single malt, "Martin and I are going for a walk. James is asleep, but keep an ear open anyway, will you?"

"Of course. Enjoy the walk."

"We will". She looked up to Martin and smiled, "All set then?"

"Yes."

They walked away from the house and strolled toward the sea, hand in hand.

"Our little boy is growing up. Three years old. How can he be three already?"

"He has passed and exceeded all the customary milestones for growth and cognitive development ..." Martin started to enumerate all of James' accomplishments, but Louisa cut him off.

"Yes, I know, but that's not what I mean Martin. It's just … well… I have loved every moment and I'm sad that he won't always be my sweet little boy."

"Mmm. I understand." Martin put his arm about her shoulders and then added, "Don't forget we will have another baby soon."

She slipped her hand behind his back and grinned, "Mmm. I haven't forgotten."

 _Another baby, in just a short eight or nine months. It was just last night after dinner, after the house had quieted down and they were preparing for bed that they had confirmed her suspicions. They had taken the same short walk along the farm path to the sea cliffs where they had stood quietly in the light of the full moon, relishing each other's closeness. It was quite windy out and there were whitecaps on the sea and a heavy surf pounding against the beach below. Despite the warmth of her heavy wool cardigan, Louisa shivered in the cold wind coming off the water. Martin sensed her discomfort, "We should go back."_

 _"What?" The wind was howling and she couldn't understand him._

 _"We should go back." He shouted as he steered her away from the cliffs and towards the farmhouse. By the time they reached the house, clouds had swept in from the south and a light rain was beginning to fall._

 _Joan, Miriam and Ruth were settled in the lounge, each with a whiskey glass in hand conversing amiably. "That was quick", Joan remarked as the two of them opened the terrace door._

 _"It's starting to rain." Louisa announced as they hung up their wraps on the peg beside the door._

 _Joan jumped up holding up her glass, "Can I get you each something to drink?"_

 _"No. We are headed upstairs," Martin replied, gently leading Louisa to the stairs._

 _"Yes, goodnight. See you in the morning."_

 _Ordinarily Louisa would have felt obliged to join her mother and Martin's aunts, but for once she was grateful for Martin's decision to decline such conviviality. She had been barely able to contain herself all evening as she had been anxious to have this private time with him, alone in their room. As soon as they had closed the bedroom door, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him tenderly, "I've been waiting all evening to do that."_

 _He returned the kiss, stroking her back and letting his hands wander to caress her bottom, "I_ have _missed you." He kissed her again, pulling her closer, "Shall we prepare for bed?"_

 _She smiled with a twinkle in her eye, "Yes, but there's something I'd like us to do first."_

 _"What?"_

 _"It's right over here." She reached over to open one of the dresser drawers and pulled out a pregnancy test strip and handed it to him._

 _A tentative smile crept across his face, as his eyes lit up, "You're pregnant?"_

 _"Could be." She teased him with an impish grin. "I'm late, two weeks at least, so probably, but I wanted to wait to do the test with you."_

 _"Yes." She could see his eyes misting over, as he blinked trying to capture the tears that were seeping into his eyes. They had talked about it before she left for Portwenn. He knew that Louisa wanted more than one child and he had agreed to have another, but they had been trying for over six months with no success. His experience as a father to James had instilled in him, if not a strong desire, certainly the willingness to try for another child. James' enthusiasm and zest for life had been infectious and had affected him in ways he had never anticipated, and he found himself looking forward to having another child with whom to share his life, but as the months passed he began to fear that James might be an only child and was surprised at his growing disappointment. Now … perhaps … that disappointment was premature. He pulled Louisa close and hugged her tightly, "I'm glad you waited."_

 _"Yeah … so I'll just go do it then?" She held up the test strip and turned toward the en-suite._

 _"Do you need any help", he asked as he followed her into the lavatory._

 _"I think I can do the first part by myself. You know … preserve the romance." She gently escorted him out of the lavatory and closed the door. She chuckled to herself at the surprised expression that crossed his face just before she closed the door, and shook her head at her husband's clinical approach to bodily functions and his failure to understand her desire for privacy whilst attending to said functions._

 _By the time she opened the door a minute later, he had removed his suit coat and tie and had hung them up and was removing the cuff links from his shirt. He watched as she moved to the bed, put the test strip flat on the bedside table and sat down. She looked up at him smiling and patted the spot next to her indicating he should sit next to her while they waited for the result. "Just a few minutes."_

 _"Right." He put the cufflinks in their case, sat down and took Louisa's hand, caressing her fingers as they sat there in silence sharing the same hopeful thoughts. He reached up and turned her head in his direction and kissed her tenderly. "What you said just before you closed the door, 'Preserve the romance.' I remember that from my dream."_

 _"Really?" She was always surprised when something she said or did brought back that dream that had brought them together._

 _"Yes. We were at a shop picking up a few supplies the morning after James was born and you had just told the cashier that you were a bit sore. I asked you where, and offered to take a look when we went home, just to make sure there were no tears or lesions, but you declined my offer. You said, "Martin, we're in a shop." One of the other patrons said just that, 'Preserve the romance, Doc.' I never really understood what he meant by that."_

 _Louisa laughed giving him a peck on the cheek. "Oh my brilliant man. I'll explain it to you later." The timer had just sounded indicating the test results were ready. Louisa picked up the stick and held it in front of them …. Positive._

Yes, it had been a magical night and she snuggled deeper into Martin's side as they stood under the moonlight lulled by the rhythm of the surf as it rolled into shore and back out again. "We should make an appointment with Doctor Behru your first week back, make sure all is in hand," Martin advised as he rubbed his cheek over her head. "On second thought, perhaps we should get a referral from Chris to see a consultant at Truro next week since you won't be back in London for another month."

"Do you really think that is necessary? I remember some of the older teachers saying … and it wasn't that long ago … that the doctors didn't want you to come into surgery to confirm a pregnancy until you were two months late. I won't be much past that when I get back to London."

"Louisa, you are a geriatric mother. Any number of things could go wrong even early in pregnancy. I'd just like to make certain that nothing is amiss."

"Martin, I feel fine … and you know I hate being called geriatric."

He sighed as he thought how his medical terminology could annoy Louisa, even now. "Yes, I should have chosen my words more carefully, but I couldn't bear to lose you if something should go wrong that could have been prevented." There was a catch in his throat, and she knew he was thinking of her bleeding to death from something like an ectopic pregnancy.

She sighed. "Oh Martin". He was like this when she was pregnant with James, always fussing at the slightest thing.

"I couldn't bear it."

She knew he wouldn't let this drop. "Okay, we'll ask Chris when we meet him and Michelle for brunch on Sunday and see what he can do."

"Right. Good."

They stood together for a few more moments. "Mum leaves tomorrow. You'll still be able to take her to Newquay, to the airport, yeah?"

"Yes." She could feel him stiffen as he let out a huff. "Do you know what that woman said to me this morning?"

"Nooo … " After Miriam's leering look and salacious comment the night before, she could believe anything he said. "What did she say?"

"She asked me if you were having a lie-in because I wore you out last night! Humph!"

Louisa laughed, "Sounds like Mum."

"It's not funny Louisa. The woman has no sense of decorum."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. She loves to tease me … and you too it seems." She turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "You know, you actually did wear me out last night."

"Good." He patted her behind lovingly and gave her a quick kiss.

"So … What did you say?"

"Humph! I wanted to tell her it was none of her business, but I just gave her one of your looks and walked away."

"Yeah. The best response is often no response. Good for you." She reached up and gave him a lingering kiss. "So …. Do you want to wear me out again tonight?"

"Mmm … that could be arranged."

"Good."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

After several weeks frequenting Miriam's salon, Margaret had decided that Miriam was a treasure. The evening after her first appointment, whilst they were at dinner with their friends, Margaret noticed that Christopher frequently glanced her way, and when they arrived home, as he was helping her with her wrap, he kissed the nape of her neck and whispered, "You certainly looked lovely this evening, my dear." She felt that old spark, the jolt of electricity that had enflamed their lives before ... well, before it went out … before their son. She gasped, but recovered enough to turn and face him, "Thank you, Christopher." He brushed the sides of her face gently, "Just lovely." It was only a brief moment before he turned to hang up their wraps and to scurry over to the television to catch a few more rounds of some golf tournament or other, but that brief moment was more than he had given her in months, perhaps years. And there had been a few other such moments both before and after his trip to Edinburgh; it had to be more than a coincidence.

When it came time to touch up the colour in her hair, Miriam suggested a subtle change to a slightly lighter tone. "As we age, our skin tone lightens. If our hair is too dark, it ages us, better to go with a lighter tone." Not blond highlights which Christopher had scorned years ago, just a slightly lighter tone. When he returned from Edinburgh, he commented how she was looking younger and younger these days. It was quite flattering and she was feeling very confident.

One afternoon a few weeks after the trip to Lisbon with her friends, as she was walking from her car to the entrance to the club, her good friend Portia ran up to her and announced breathlessly, "I've got the most wonderful news!"

"Yes?" Margaret tilted her head downward and raised her eyebrows wondering whatever had her friend so excited. She repressed a smile, chuckling to herself as she watched Portia's bosom rising and falling, jiggling like jelly in her excitement. "What is it?"

"Guess." Portia was beaming as they slowly walked towards the door.

Margaret huffed with annoyance. She hated guessing games. "I have no idea. What is it? You look like a chipmunk who has just found a cache of nuts under the tree."

Portia frowned, "Chipmunk?"

Margaret raised her eyebrows and tilted her head with an indulgent smile, "You know what I mean. What is it that has you so excited?"

"I'm going to be a grandmother!"

" _Oh God_ ," Margaret sighed and closed her eyes briefly, " _Not more grandchildren pictures to gush over_. _God give me strength._ " She quickly regained her composure and said, "Well congratulations. That's wonderful news. When is the baby due?" Margaret hoped her tone conveyed more delight than she felt.

"Daphne's only three months along, so the baby isn't due until early May, but isn't it wonderful. I hope it's a girl."

"When will they know?"

Portia sighed and shook her head rolling her eyes, "Daphne tells me they want it to be a surprise, so I won't know until the birth. Honestly, what good is modern imaging if you don't take advantage of it? We won't know whether to paint the nursery pink or blue, what kind of clothes to buy, not anything!"

"Mmm ..." Margaret was hardly listening. Her three best friends would have grandchildren. She would be the only one without grandchildren, the odd one out. She hated being different. She had never had any desire for grandchildren, not any more than she had wanted children, but apparently having grandchildren was what one did at this time of life, just as having children was what one did when one was younger. Now that all her friends had grandchildren, she wanted some as well. And she thought about her own son. They hadn't spoken in years and she wondered if he had married. That was hardly likely, and even less likely that he would have fathered children. He had been an awkward, nasty little boy and he had become an awkward, nasty sort of man, one of those married to his job. This was a club to which she would never belong. It all seemed so unfair.

xXx

Later that night, after they returned from the club, she approached Christopher as he relaxed in his chair in front of the television. "Have you heard any news of Martin these days?"

He held up his finger intent on the golf match playing out on the screen, "Just a moment ... Oh! Bad luck!" He leaned forward scowling and slapped the seat of the couch hard, " Bad lie, middle of the trap!" He shook his head, and then settled back in his seat and looked up at her, asking, "What was that?"

"Martin. Do you know what he is doing these days?"

"Martin?"

"Yes, _Martin ..._ our son."

"Oh, him," Christopher made a face. "Still working at Imperial. Last I heard he had been made head of vascular. Damned lucky he is; can't imagine why they would have him leading a department, but there it is."

Margaret nodded her head in agreement. "Somewhat surprising; he must be doing well."

He paused for a moment as the player on the screen set up a put and missed the cup by more than an inch. "Damn! Off his game today, that's for sure." He got up out of his chair and walked over to the bar to pour a drink, muttering, "He ought to be head of surgery by now."

"What?" Margaret wasn't sure what he had said.

Christopher turned toward her and growled, "If he had any ambition at all, he'd be head of surgery by now. Damned embarrassing."

"Still, head of vascular, that's something." She joined Christopher and poured herself a nightcap.

Christopher went back to his chair in front of the television. She held back, swirling the drink in her glass as in thought for a minute. "I wonder how he handles the social functions. They're usually mandatory, aren't they?"

"I'm sure he manages somehow."

"Do you think he has a woman?"

"Ha. That's unlikely. What woman would want to put up with him?"

"Christopher, don't be naive. As head of vascular, he is still considered highly successful, probably has a good net worth by now, what with a few private patients and the inheritance your father left him. I imagine there are many women willing to put up with his difficult nature for the financial security. Perhaps we could visit him and help him along, find him someone with the right background."

She sat down in the chair next to him and continued, "I wonder what happened to that Montgomery woman. She would have been perfect for him. Father was an MP you know."

"Why are you suddenly so interested in Martin's life?" Christopher was suspicious.

"I do wonder every now and then. How it is that he turned out the way he did. Was there anything we could have done to make things different. That sort of thing."

"All our friends' children were raised the same way. There's nothing we could have done." He turned back to the screen, "Oooo ... good shot ... right up on the green ... oh!" He jumped up, "Did you see that? Right into the cup ... an eagle ... makes him the leader."

Margaret glanced briefly at the screen, muttering, "Yes, thrilling." Christopher was engrossed in the game and failed to notice the sarcasm dripping from her voice as she rose from the chair and exited the room.

xXx

It was mid-November and the annual holiday fund raising ball was scheduled for the first week in December. Margaret had purchased a stunning gown for the event during their trip to Lisbon, and now she needed a hairdo to match. She consulted with Miriam at her next appointment.

"Yes, I know all about it ... very good cause for the children's home isn't it? A good many of my clients will be attending. I always try to design a "do" that is unique and special for each one of my ladies. What are you thinking?"

"I rarely do anything special for these events, but I was thinking that I'd like to go with something a little more elegant this time, perhaps a chignon or a French twist?"

"Hmmm – if your hair were longer, we'd have more options. Would you consider using extensions or ..."

"No, no, surely you could work your magic without artificial means."

"My dear, my work is all about artifice. Of course, I can come up with something quite elegant for you. I'll set up my tablet and you can scroll through my pictures as I work. Click on the ones you like, but first, a shampoo."

As she worked her magic, Margaret scrolled through what must have been hundreds of different hairstyles that Miriam had collected through the years. She found several that she felt would be suitable for the upcoming event, and Miriam made a note of those Margaret liked. While Margaret scanned Miriam's collection, Miriam chattered on as usual about the occasional tourist who found the way to her shop or the latest scandal in the town's political community. Suddenly she threw up her hands, "I keep forgetting to tell you. My Louisa is expecting again, another grandchild ... in March."

Margaret groaned inwardly, but managed to utter, "How very nice. You must be thrilled."

"Oh yeah, yeah. Though ... I suppose I'll have to go help out before my usual summer visit to Cornwall. At least she has Martin's aunt to help out the first month or two, save me a trip to London in March or April. Joan, that's Martin's aunt just loves babies, more power to her, I say."

Margaret mulled this over. During the time she had been one of her clients, Miriam had told Margaret something of her daughter's life. Married in Cornwall in December; lives in London with her husband but spends summers in Cornwall; something about her husband's aunt's farm. She might even have mentioned Portwenn once or twice. Margaret hadn't always listened, but she was beginning to wonder. " _Louisa's husband, Martin has an Aunt Joan who lives on a farm in Cornwall? Surely it couldn't be my Martin, could it?"_ She glanced up at Miriam and said, 'Martin's aunt lives on a farm in Cornwall, isn't that right?"

"That's right." Miriam pulled open a drawer and picked up a small picture album. "It's a beautiful place. Martin renovated it for her a few years back, actually just before he and Louisa got married. Here are a few pictures from last summer at James' birthday party."

Margaret flipped through the album and recognition gradually dawned on her. One farm looked pretty much like another, but it was similar to the one Christopher had inherited from his uncle years ago. She continued to scan the photos. She had seen enough pictures of James by now, that she recognised him, standing proudly behind a cake with three candles on it. There was another with Miriam and James and a beautiful woman with a dark ponytail. Miriam peered over her shoulder, "That's my Louisa with James and me."

"She is quite pretty." Margaret couldn't help but remark. She turned the page and there he was, Martin. Margaret caught her breath. Was it possible that her son, _her son_ … _her son,_ could have married the daughter of her hairdresser?

"There's Louisa and James with Martin." Margaret stared at the photo, and then flipped the page to see a photo of Joan hugging James tightly as she helped him to cut the cake. It was definitely Joan, a good twenty, twenty-five years older than the last time she saw her at Martin's graduation, but it was definitely Joan. She flipped back to the photo of Martin with his family and shuddered. She could barely control her anger with him. _How could he?_ How could he? _How dare he marry so far beneath him!_

Miriam laughed at Margaret's reaction to Martin's picture, "I know. He looks pretty intimidating, but he's not nearly as scary as he looks. He's a brilliant surgeon. Head of some department at Imperial is all I know, has a lot of responsibilities, so he always looks serious. I don't think he's the easiest person to get along with, but he's devoted to Louisa and James."

Margaret tried to choke back the bile that had risen in her throat, but wasn't successful. She reached her hand to her mouth, glancing up at Miriam, "If you will excuse me for a moment, I need to use the lavatory." She tumbled out of the chair, and bracing herself against the wall, she rushed to the back of the shop to the toilet and closed the door. She leaned against the sink and stared into the mirror. It was a nightmare, perhaps the worst news she had ever received. How could he have stooped so low as to marry the daughter of a fisherman and a hairdresser. All her hopes of finding him a suitable mate so that she could have grandchildren to show her friends were suddenly dashed. She started to shake, her heart was pounding with humiliation and fury raging through her veins in equal measure. She pounded her fist on the sink and peered back into the mirror, lifting her hands to massage her temples. She had been in the lavatory too long and she needed to return to Miriam. She dabbed a little water on her eyes and took a deep breath, _"Compose yourself Margaret. You will get through this."_ She flushed the toilet and rinsed her mouth with some water, then dried her hands on the towel. Pulling herself up to her full height, she took one last glance into the mirror whilst regaining her composure, and then pasting a sheepish smile on her face, she opened the door.

"Sorry about that. I don't know what came over me."

"That's fine. These things happen."

Miriam continued her work and Margaret picked up the picture album, studying the page where Martin was standing with Louisa and James. "Your son-in-law certainly doesn't look happy to be at his son's birthday party."

"I'm not sure he was ... kept on about the empty calories in the cake and ice cream till Louisa gave him a look that shut him up."

"Why ever did she marry such a disagreeable man? I suppose he has a good bit of money set aside. Was that the attraction?"

Miriam laughed, "They certainly seem to be comfortable, nice town house in London and the farm in Cornwall, but I don't think that's it ... not entirely anyway. Louisa quite fancies him."

" _Wait_ ," Margaret thought, " _the farm belongs to Joan and Christopher. Why would she say it was Martin and Louisa's?_ " She flipped back a few pages to look at the pictures of the farm. "I thought you said the farm belonged to his aunt."

"Well it does, but Joan told me that she is leaving it to Martin and Louisa when she passes on, not that that is likely to happen any time soon. Joan's as strong as an ox. Louisa still has her cottage in the village and I sometimes stay there when I visit."

"I see." Margaret wondered if Christopher was aware of Joan's plans. She was fairly certain that Joan could only pass on her share of the farm. Probably too complicated for Miriam to understand. Still, she should talk to Christopher about it.

Now that she was over her initial shock, she was curious. She continued to flip through the album. There was a picture of a woman who had to be Ruth. "Who is this?"

"Oh, that's Martin's other aunt, Ruth. She lives in London as well but was down for the birthday celebration. She's a bit of an odd duck, psychiatrist at Broadmoor, assesses the criminally insane if you can imagine … kinda creepy if you ask me. Louisa says she celebrates all the holidays with them. Funny how those two sisters are so different. I've known Joanie pretty much all my life. I raised Louisa in Portwenn, that's the village closest to her farm. She's friendly and would do anything for you. I met Ruth at the wedding; she's a quiet one, but I think she loves the family in her own way."

"You used to live in the same village as his aunt? Did you introduce Louisa to Martin?"

"No, that's the thing; they found each other ... in London of all places. She was on holiday visiting an old friend. Her friend hurt herself and ended up in the same hospital where Martin was working. He asked her out and started visiting Portwenn to see her and they fell in love." Miriam sighed and leaned against the back of the chair, "It was all so romantic."

"He doesn't really look the romantic type." Margaret couldn't help but wonder if he was a womanizer just like his father and found a sweet gullible schoolteacher to wed, sending her off to Cornwall in the summers so he could play the field.

"No, he's a miserable old grump most of the time far as I can see, always scowling, but Louisa adores him. No accounting for taste, I always say."

"So now you say Louisa is expecting another child. If he's as surly as you say, I'm amazed that he was interested in fathering one child, let alone two."

"Ah now, that's where looks are deceiving. I wouldn't want to admit to spying on them, but trust me. I've seen them once or twice in the evening when they thought they were alone, and he's very interested, very interested indeed." She chuckled as she finished combing out Margaret's hair. "Now, let's look at those up-dos you found and we'll decide what we want to do for this big gala that's coming up."

 **Author's note: Sorry for the day in posting; real life has been busy, and writing Margaret Ellingham takes time. Thanks to all who have posted reviews; it's good to know your thoughts, and they give me inspiration to continue.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

For Margaret, the news that Martin, _her_ son _,_ could marry the daughter of a hairdresser was completely unsettling. It was more than unsettling, it was infuriating and humiliating. She had been wanting grandchildren; it was what one did at this time of life, or so it seemed, but she could never accept Martin's choice of a wife. Did he not understand the importance of good breeding? How could she admit that her son was married to her hairdresser's daughter? Her friends would be sympathetic enough to her face, but she would be the topic of gossip for months afterward, years even. Given her state of mind, Margaret was uncharacteristically quiet when she met the girls for 'tea' that afternoon, so much so that Carlotta pulled her aside as they were leaving to ask if she was unwell. Margaret looked at her puzzled, "No, I'm fine."

"It's just that you seemed distant this evening, lost in thought."

"It's just that I received some news of an old acquaintance, no one you know, and I'm not sure what to make of it. I'm fine. Don't worry yourself, my dear."

When Christopher came home to dress for dinner that evening, she was sitting in the lounge, flipping through some magazines. She really wasn't in the mood for the usual banter and gossip that their evenings at the club provided and she considered staying home, pleading a sick headache.

"I told Geoff that we'd meet him and Carly at half seven this evening. I want to get back home early for the tournament broadcast at ten. You'd best get dressed. We haven't much time."

" _Drat, why did I tell Carly that I had news of an old friend. She's sure to mention it to Christopher if I don't show up, and then he won't leave it be until I tell him."_ She sighed as she thought of the complications that could result if she told Christopher about Martin's family. He would be furious and might even want to confront him about it. He would be even more humiliated than she herself felt at the moment. No, that wasn't right. Christopher was rarely humiliated. More likely he would be disgusted; he always said Martin had no good sense. Better that she keep this news to herself, better he never know. Even so, she needed to discuss his plans for his share of the farm when either he or Joan died. She was sure that the property had increased in value over the past forty years and they could always use a financial cushion.

The evening with their friends passed convivially enough, as these evenings usually did. She was certain that no one realized that she was distressed. God knew she had enough practice putting on a gracious face in all her years acting as hostess for all the socialising required to keep up their standing in London society.

The opportunity to discuss the farm with Christopher came up just a few nights later. Peter Symington, a friend of Sylvia's husband Morgan, was visiting with his wife Margery. They had just spent a few weeks visiting their son in Cornwall, where he was working as a general practitioner in a small coastal village. They were extolling the beauty of the countryside, and during the course of the conversation, they disclosed that they had made an offer on a home just up the coast from their son. Margaret thought this the perfect opportunity to mention that Christopher also had property in Cornwall. "Well, yes, I did" Christopher quickly added, "My uncle left his farm to me and my sister, but I had no interest in farming, and she and her husband were keen on the life, so I told her she could have it."

"Too bad. Property values in Cornwall are skyrocketing these days. It would have been a good investment."Peter commented.

"Perhaps, but back then, it was small potatoes for a surgeon like me, and I didn't want the bother of keeping it up."

Margaret had been puzzled about Christopher's response, certain that his "gift" to Joan was not legally binding. Later that evening Margaret asked him about it, "What did you mean tonight when you told Peter that you gave the farm to Joan?"

"Just what I said. We had no need of the farm. Can you imagine spending time on the farm? And it's not as though we ever wanted extended holidays in Cornwall. We haven't been there in years, and never spent any time there. Why would we want to be burdened with it?" He walked over to his chair and sat down, looking for the television remote on a side table.

Margaret followed him and sat down opposite him, "But you never actually transferred your share. It's still legally ours. We could sell our half if we needed the funds."

"No. I signed the property over to Joanie a few years ago."

"You did what?" Aghast, she threw up her hands as she jerked forward in her chair.

Chris looked at her in irritation, "Joanie was putting her affairs in order, trying to set up a bed and breakfast or some such and was having trouble getting a loan to make the necessary improvements. When Uncle Dick first gave it to us, I had told her and Phil that they could have the farm . Removing my name from the deed seemed a simple solution ... and removed us from any risk of liability … should have done it years ago."

"Damn, where is the remote?" He stood up, searching for the remote under the cushions of his chair where it frequently fell.

"Couldn't you have just sold your share?"

"No! It was complicated." Having retrieved the remote, he sat back down and huffed, leaning over to try to explain it in simple terms that she would understand, "I looked into it, talked with my solicitor. There was some sort of legality; seems that I essentially forfeited my share by showing no interest in the farm, never visiting, never paying taxes on the property. Any proceeds we might have received from the sale would be reduced significantly by the legal fees to contest her ownership. It wasn't worth the hassle."

Margaret shook her head in disbelief, "I don't understand."

"As I said, it was complicated. Really Mags, don't worry your little head about it. The farm is Joan's. We don't need the money."

"But what will she do with it after she is gone? She has no children." Margaret wasn't ready to drop the subject. Half of the farm was rightfully theirs. If what Christopher had just told her was true, then it would end up in the possession of Martin and the children of his working class wife.

"It's none of our concern. Let it go." He flipped the television on and began to search for the golf tournament he had recorded earlier in the day, essentially dismissing Margaret.

She hated when he treated her as a child, talking in a condescending tone and releasing her and her concerns with a wave of his hand. She was seething with indignation and she glared at him, but his attention had shifted to his beloved golf and he didn't even notice as she stomped from the room.

xxXxx

Despite her angst about her son's choice of a wife, she managed to suppress her feelings during most of the holidays. She had more than enough on her mind with organizing their community's annual fund-raising gala. It was hard work and consumed her every waking minute for weeks, but it was worth all that effort. The gala was an enormous success, reaping the largest donation for the children's home in recent memory. The local press outdid themselves covering the event. As she opened the society page of the local newspaper, she was pleased to see her role highlighted with several pictures identifying her as the chairwoman of the year's event. One of the captions referred to her as _'the elegant and beautiful Margaret Ellingham, chairwoman of this year's gala'_. What more could a woman ask for than to be acknowledged as elegant and beautiful. She smiled with satisfaction as she pored over every review. She knew she deserved all the accolades. She had worked tirelessly to make it a success, and she knew that she was one of the most beautiful women there. True, hers was a mature beauty, but the care she had taken all her life gave her very few fine lines to mar her otherwise flawless complexion. Even Christopher had made the comment that she was the most elegant of all their friends. " _Good genes will always rise to the occasion,_ " she thought, " _along with the help of a skilled beautician_."

During the days leading up to the holiday charity gala, in the rare moment when she allowed herself to think of Martin, she grew to accept his poor choice for a wife. After all, she would never be required to meet his family; they hadn't spoken in over twelve years, why would they make contact now? But the thought that she would never be able to pull out pictures of her own grandchildren did make her angry. How could Martin do that to her? Hadn't her mother promised her that if she went to the right school, made friends with the right people, followed all the rules and married well that her life would be happy and complete? Where did it all go wrong? The recognition she had received for her part in the gala's success provided some vindication. What did she need of grandchildren to prove her worth when she herself was so warmly valued?

The rest of the holidays were full of parties, brunches and dinners, and musical evenings. She and Christopher hosted a New Year's celebration in their home each year; and, after the children's home gala, she was busy planning that party. There was little time to think of Martin with his low-born wife and family. It was only when her friends left for England to visit with their families or when Sylvia brought her four grandchildren to the club's holiday party for pictures with Santa that she was reminded of what was never to be. Visits to Miriam's salon were a painful reminder as well. If Miriam had been less skilled, she would have looked for a new stylist, but Margaret took great pride in her appearance and she needed Miriam's skill to be at her best. Thus, it was that she was in Miriam's salon early New Year's Eve afternoon.

The club had decided to go with a Great Gatsby theme to ring in the New Year and Margaret had found an antique white and gold art-deco hair band studded with diamonds that she was hoping to incorporate into her hair for the festivities. Miriam took one look at the accessory and gushed enthusiastically. "That will look fabulous against your dark hair Margaret." She held it up against Margaret's forehead, and then played a bit with her hair, twirling it this way and that. Margaret watched in awe as she showed her what she had in mind. "What do you think?"

It was perfect; she was sure that she would be "the belle of the ball" once again. No, she couldn't give up Miriam's skills despite the constant reminder of how far her son had fallen. She looked back at Miriam excitedly, "I love it. It's just what I was hoping for."

"Good. Let's get started." Miriam took the head wrap and returned it to Margaret to hold until she needed it. It was obviously an expensive piece of jewellery and she didn't want to leave it out where it could disappear. She trusted the other stylists completely, but any one of their customers could be tempted. No need to risk that. As was her inclination she talked while working on Margaret's hair. She had talked with each of her children and grandchildren over the holidays and had news of all of them.

Margaret let her mind wander over the last few details that needed to be finalised before the party preparations would be complete whilst Miriam chattered away about how her son and his family had visited with Louisa and her family in Cornwall for Christmas and Boxing Day. Their celebrations had been interrupted by a gruesome murder up in the midlands requiring Alan to rush off, but the girls stayed on in Cornwall with Louisa and Martin for the annual village holiday fete.

Margaret supposed that Martin had to endure spending his holidays every year with this policeman and his brood. Well he deserved every excruciating minute; that's what happened when you married into this kind of family. Hadn't Miriam's husband, Louisa's father, been a fisherman? Common, that's what they were.

Once again Miriam pulled out photographs that Louisa had sent. There was a group photo and Margaret held onto it, pretending to scan all the faces carefully whilst she actually focused on Martin. He stood in the back, holding James in one arm with his other arm wrapped around his wife, who was obviously pregnant. James had laid his head against Martin's shoulder, and his wife had circled her arm around Martin's chest in a light embrace and was loosely holding James' foot. Her brother was standing next to her and his wife was seated in front next to Ruth and Joan and the two girls. One of the girls was holding a fat calico cat on her lap.

Martin looked content with the hint of a small smile on his face. How unusual; she hadn't seen him without a scowl since ... well, she couldn't remember when ... perhaps one summer when she and Christopher had driven to Cornwall to retrieve him from the farm after a week's golf holiday. They had arrived in Portwenn a day earlier than planned and had driven out to the farm after checking into the Portwenn Hotel. Martin had been running up from the seaside cliffs with a small dog following him; he was waving some shells in his hands and he was beaming. She remembered how he had stopped suddenly as he saw them getting out of the car and how quickly his expression changed to one of wariness and caution.

She immediately suppressed that memory and returned her attention to Miriam, "How nice. You seem to have a happy family. Even your son-in-law seems to be enjoying himself."

"I suppose he was. I think the two families enjoy getting together. You wouldn't guess it, but Martin and Alan get along quite well, and of course Annie is a nurse, so he has that in common with her as well. The girls love to dote on James, and I know they are looking forward to the new baby."

"I see that Martin's two aunts were there as well."

"Yes, Louisa and Martin and Ruth were staying with Joan. Alan and his family were at Louisa's cottage. Sometimes I wish I could join them for the holidays, but really, it's just too cold. They call early on Christmas Day when they know that Paulo and I will be home."

" _Paulo? Oh yes,"_ Margaret thought _, "that man Miriam lives with. Not even married. Well, what can you expect from the lower classes?"_

She couldn't help herself as she asked, "What about Martin's parents? Do they ever join the rest of the family for holidays?"

Miriam shrugged, "Never met them."

"They didn't go to the wedding?"

"No Martin refused to invite them."

"That seems a bit harsh."

"Louisa tells me they are estranged."

"How unfortunate."

"Yeah. Joanie tells me that they neglected Martin as a child, and he has no interest in seeing them ever again."

Margaret startled at this, " _Neglected? I don't think so. We gave him a beautiful home, good food, the highest quality clothing, the best nannies we could find and an excellent education. Hardly neglect!"_

"Whatever could she mean by that?"

"She said they let the nannies raise him and then sent him off to school when he was little and to her farm for holidays, never made time for him." Miriam let out a huff, "Don't know why some people have children."

Margaret was offended. How could Joan say such things about her and Christopher; they did the best they could. She needed to defend herself, even if Miriam had no idea she was Martin's mother. "Perhaps they had responsibilities that prevented them from spending more time with their child."

"They had better things to do than raise their own child? I can't imagine."

"It happens." Margaret wasn't going to give in. She thought about how much of her time was spent in serving the hospital auxiliary board, planning and hosting gala fund raisers for the hospital, wooing benefactors, all to further Christopher's career. She really didn't have time to spend taking the child to the park or reading him a bed-time story. It was all they could do to ensure he had a good education. As Christopher said, it was the way all the children in their set were raised. "They did provide him with a good education, it seems."

"Yeah, I guess you could give them that, but what could be more important than loving your child?"

"Maybe he was a difficult child." She thought about how he cried constantly as a baby, and she shuddered.

Miriam raised her eyebrows and nodded. "That's certainly a possibility. He is definitely a difficult man." Then she laughed. "Although Louisa seems to handle him quite well. Just gives him a look when he starts to go off."

"Still," Miriam continued, "Sometimes difficult children are the ones who need the most attention from their parents. Who knows, maybe he would have been different if he had a pair of loving parents."

Margaret wasn't about to be swayed from her position; there was nothing she or Christopher could have done to make him more congenial. Other children were just good natured from the start; Martin was not. Still, she needed to stay on Miriam's good side in order to always look her best. There was no sense in arguing the point so she replied in a quiet tone tinged with just a hint of scepticism, "Possibly."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

It was Christmas Eve. All was well in the Ellinghams' world, and Joan couldn't be happier. She was surrounded by her family, a family she had never dreamed she would have until a few years ago. Earlier that evening they had gathered around her table for their Christmas Eve feast, all of them: her sister, Ruth; her nephew Martin whom she loved as her son, his wife Louisa and their son James. Also joining them were Louisa's brother Alan and his family, Annie, Abigail and Amelia whom she had welcomed into her family circle with open arms as soon as Martin and Louisa had wed. It had been a boisterous table full of laughter, just as a family holiday meal should be. Even Martin had managed a chuckle or two during the meal, and it gladdened her heart to see him so happy.

They had finished their repast just two hours ago, sumptuous fish stuffed with crabmeat, slow roasted red cabbage and sautéed spinach along with whole meal rolls and an apple compote for afters. Now the house was getting quiet. She and Ruth were in the kitchen of the farmhouse, Ruth doing the washing up, and she finishing the preparations for their Christmas Day feast. Annie and Alan had taken the girls back to Louisa's cottage in the village and James was asleep in bed.

Louisa and Martin were in the lounge where Martin was setting up the train set that he had played with as a boy. She had found it in a box in the storage room that Martin had converted into a bedroom suite for her back when he did the first of several renovations to the house, back when he was courting Louisa. She remembered encouraging him, hoping that the two of them would find happiness with each other. Ruth had been sceptical, but now Ruth had to agree that, in the end, Joan had been right. Oh, they had their rows from time to time, but they seemed to have made a good life for themselves and their son; and now, in the spring, there would be another baby. Wasn't that proof that they were happy?

 _It was an evening last summer, an evening just like this one. They had celebrated James' birthday a few days earlier, and now that Louisa's mother and brother had left to go home, it was a quiet house with just the Ellinghams left to themselves. They had finished their meal, and James was in bed back in his room where Miriam had stayed whist she was visiting. Louisa was in the lounge reading and Martin was in his study. Joan hadn't had any time alone with him to chat and she knocked on his door, "Mind if I join you for a few minutes?"_

 _He was seated at his desk with his laptop open and papers spread out across the surface, "No, not at all. Come in. I was working on my latest research project, trying to make sense of the data we've gathered so far."_

 _She walked in and settled herself comfortably in the overstuffed chair he used for reading, "Are you sure I won't be bothering you."._

 _He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and cocking an eyebrow, an expression with which she was very familiar, "Would it make any difference if I said you were?"_

" _Oh Marty, I won't stay long. I just don't get you to myself very often."_

" _No, it's fine." He steepled his fingers and gave her a shy grin._

" _James seems to be quite a happy little boy, doesn't he?"_

" _Yes, he is quite healthy and I believe he is happy."_

" _He gladdens my heart … just like you did when you were his age. You were three the first time you came to visit, same age as he is now. Phil and I enjoyed every minute you were here."_

" _Yes, so you've told me many times. And my times with you and Uncle Phil were the best parts of my childhood."_

" _Mmm … So, I was wondering …" She figited in her chair._

" _Yes?"_

" _He has brought so much joy to all our lives … "_

" _Yes, he has, Aunty Joan."_

" _Well … "_

" _What is it?"_

 _Martin was beginning to lose patience with her, she could tell, so she just spit it out. "Have you and Louisa thought about having another child?"_

 _He stared at her wide eyed for a moment, then turned his attention back to the papers on his desk._

" _I know I shouldn't pry, but have you? Don't put it off for too long."_

 _He turned back to her and said, "We'll take it under advisement."_

 _Even as he was speaking, she could see the corners of his mouth twitching, and she guessed the truth. Her hands flew up to her mouth, "Oh Marty. Are you …. ?"_

He looked down, a wry smile fliting across his face, " _Shush. It's very early times as yet. We just did the test a few days ago. Chris is making an appointment for us to see a specialist in Truro on Wednesday."_

 _She barely let him finish his sentence before she jumped up and ran over to give him a hug, "I am so happy for you. Another little Ellingham. Oh! this is wonderful news." She clapped her hands together, overjoyed at the revelation._

" _Please keep it to yourself. Don't let Louisa know I have told you."_

It was all she could do to keep the news to herself for the next few days until after their appointment in Truro, but then she had weaselled the news out of them. And soon the new baby would be here. She had plans to spend the first two months in London helping out with the baby. It was the least she could do and quite frankly, she could hardly wait to hold and cherish her newest grandchild.

Louisa was seated on the sofa in the farmhouse lounge with her cat, Lizzie cuddled on her lap looking through the photos she had taken earlier in the evening. She had downloaded them onto her tablet, and she was trying to decide which ones to send to her mother. Every now and then Joan would peek out at the two of them in the lounge and watch Marty, sitting on the floor next to the tree, as he set up his train. He had removed his suit coat jacket and was in his shirtsleeves as he arranged the tracks just so and reached over to search for this or that in one of the two boxes which had held the trains and their accoutrements for the last thirty years or more. As she gazed at him her mind brought up the image of him as a six-year old boy right after they had first bought that train for him at the weekly boot sale over in Wadebridge all those years ago. He was an easy child, never demanding anything special from them, and he was thrilled with the train, playing with it almost nonstop for the remainder of his visit that year. She could still see him, blond hair falling over his forehead, inspecting every section of the track, the intense concentration furrowing his brow even then. Every now and then he would glance up and grin, "This train is exceptional, Aunty Joan." She loved that they could make him happy, and giving him those happy memories to take with him back to school warmed her heart from one visit to the next. After they unearthed it whilst cleaning out the storage room that became her new bedroom, she stored it safely in the attic. She suggested to Martin that James might be old enough to enjoy it this Christmas, and he agreed. Even though his expression never changed from his usual serious demeanour, she could sense the excitement in his body language as he pulled the boxes out of the attic right after he arrived two days ago. She was certain that he was going to enjoy playing with it as much as James.

Louisa leaned forward as she stroked her cat and gazed at her husband. As he rummaged through the box, searching for a particular section of track she asked, "How old were you when you received this train set?"

"I think I had just turned six. Mum and Dad had gone off to the Maldives and had sent me down to Cornwall to spend the holidays with Joan and Phil. When I woke up Christmas morning, it was under the tree. Phil turned on the switch and I can remember how excited I was to see the train go around and around. I had never had anything so special in my life. Over the next few years, we added extra track and more cars and a tunnel and the houses. I couldn't wait to come and play with it each Christmas. Of course, that ended when I was twelve. After that I wasn't allowed to come down for Christmas …. or summers …" Martin's voice trailed off as he remembered the lonely holidays after his 12th birthday.

Hearing the melancholy in his voice infuriated Joan; she had never forgiven her brother for taking Martin away from them. That man and his self-centered wife deserved a special place in hell for the way they treated that little boy. There was nothing she could do now except give him a warm and loving family home to visit whenever he could get away from the city.

She could tell it affected Louisa deeply as well. It was very good that he had her to provide him the care and comfort that had been missing for too long in his life. Louisa lifted Lizzie off of her lap and rose from the couch to sit down on the floor next to her husband, encircling him with her arms. Unable to find words that would console him, she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder.

Martin reached for her hand and kissed it, then leaned over to finish setting up the train. "Now James can enjoy it and the new baby as well."

Joan watched as Louisa rose awkwardly from the floor and returned to the sofa, where Lizzie ambled over once again to take up her place on Louisa's lap. She stepped back into the kitchen to put away the stuffing she had finished mixing up and to lay out the serving dishes they would need the next day on the sideboard. Martin had volunteered to prepare a big breakfast for everyone. It was at times like this when she absolutely loved the kitchen that Martin had installed when he first renovated the house. There was plenty of room for several cooks to work at once and she knew that she would be able to get the turkey in the cooker whilst Martin was working on their breakfast.

Ruth had finished the washing up and had joined Louisa on the sofa, a full wine glass in her hand. Joan poured herself a small glass of the single malt Martin had given her for Christmas and joined the others in the lounge, walking over to inspect the train. "Those were good times we had playing with this train, eh Marty? Does it still work?"

"Let's see." Martin flipped the switch and watched as the engine slowly pulled the train down the track, gaining speed until it was nearly flying through the tunnel and past the small village.

Louisa leaned over to get a better view of the train as it chugged past her, "James is going to be thrilled. Thank you for finding this Joan."

"I'm just glad Martin was able to get it working. I wasn't so sure. It had been in storage for so long. We never pulled it out after Marty's last Christmas with us." Joan let her shoulders drop as, once again, she remembered the sadness she felt when Martin was no longer allowed to visit. She put her hand on Martin's head, ruffling his hair as if he were still a boy, "I think I'd better head on to bed. We've a busy day ahead of us tomorrow." With that she made her way to her room, relieved once more that she no longer had to climb the stairs.

She woke the next day to the scent of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon, and something else that smelled suspiciously like bacon. Marty is cooking bacon? Not likely she thought. She looked at the clock beside her bed. It read 7:35, and she jumped up throwing on her work clothes as she ran into the kitchen. "Marty, why didn't you wake me? The turkey will never be ready."

He opened the door to the cooker and said, "It's fine. Everything is in hand." He had already placed the turkey into the cooker with several strips of bacon over the top, just as she would have done. I put it in an hour ago."

She sputtered, "Did you …"

"Yes, I remembered to put in the stuffing and the excess is in this pan ready to go in an hour before mealtime."

He closed the door to the cooker and stood up straight, looking down at her, "As I said, everything is in hand. You needed your rest."

She plopped down onto one of the kitchen chairs, placing her hands on the edge of the table, "Oh ... well, good then."

"Here, have a cup of coffee. Breakfast is nearly ready. Warm cinnamon buns with currents; a potato, kale and sausage hash with fried eggs and some fresh fruit - apples, oranges and bananas. We'll eat when Louisa and James come down. Ruth has gone out for a short walk along the cliffs."

When Martin works in the kitchen he tends to take over. She knew he had made the current buns the day before but had no idea that he would cook up such a morning feast when they were going to have such a large feast later in the afternoon. "That's quite a lot of food."

Martin looked a bit abashed, "Louisa wanted a nice Christmas breakfast. I decided to indulge her just this once."

Joan knew that he indulged her more often that he would like to admit. She looked up at him and smiled, "Ah, yes." She thought it was one of his qualities that kept his marriage strong and happy.

James and Louisa walked into the kitchen just as Ruth returned from her outing and the kitchen was soon abuzz with activity. Martin dished up the meal he had prepared whilst James regaled them with the news that Father Christmas had brought a train and put it under the tree. He could barely contain himself and it was all they could do to ensure he ate a healthy breakfast before they all retired to the lounge to view the magnificent train running on its tracks around the Christmas tree.

Later that day, after Alan and his family had arrived, the kitchen was awhirl as several cooks prepared the Christmas dinner. Martin had escaped upstairs, ostensibly to work on a paper he was preparing for one of his medical journals, but Joan knew it was to escape the bedlam that had erupted in the kitchen and to enjoy some peace and quiet before it was time to join the family for Christmas dinner. In many ways he was still a solitary man who needed time to himself to recharge in order to enjoy his family; he had been that way as a child, slipping up to his room to read a book or examine his shell and rock collection. It was who he was. Louisa seemed to understand and certainly Joan did as well.

" _Yes"_ she thought again, _"Martin was wise to design the kitchen with room for several cooks to work at one time, and we use every single inch of it during the holidays."_ With the entire family gathered in the kitchen to cook, the day became quite festive. Louisa had taken James upstairs for a short nap mid-afternoon and despite his protesting, he soon fell fast asleep. An hour later Martin appeared in the kitchen with an animated James. The nap had done wonders for James as did the quiet time for Martin. As they were about to sit down to their meal, Louisa insisted that they take time to pose for a family photo. She had set up her tripod in the lounge and put several chairs in front of the tree. It took a few minutes to gather everyone as thirteen-year old Amelia had to check that her hair was just so and Joan kept running back to the kitchen to stir a pot or check on the mince pie she had in the oven, but finally they came together and Louisa had her photos.

As they were waiting for Alan to adjust the camera, Joan felt something in her hair. She reached up and found a foot; turning around, she saw James giggling, "Your hair tickles Gamma."

She laughed out loud, "Yes I suppose it does," and she grinned at him.

Martin was holding James in his right arm with his other arm around Louisa's shoulder. Louisa laughed along with Joan and grabbed James' foot. "James, it's not nice to mess up Gammy's hair, especially with your foot."

Joan looked up at Louisa with a smile and then shifted her gaze to her grandson, "James, I'm going to get you when we finish with the photos!"

James laughed even more loudly as Alan clapped his hands, "Look at the camera everyone." Alan pressed the timed shutter and raced over to Louisa's side just as the camera went 'click'.

"One more, he shouted and set the timer again. 'Click', the camera snapped the photo and the group split up and headed to the dinner table. But not before Joan was able to grab James and give his tummy a tickle. "Stop it Gamma," he laughed.

"Only if you give me a hug." And James complied hugging her tightly and she carried him over to the table, thinking, " _Life doesn't get any better than this_ ".

Later as she looked at the family photo, Joan thought how it was the very picture of domestic happiness and again she marvelled at the changes that Louisa had brought to Martin's life, and to her own as well. Life was good. Joan was certain that one or more of these photos would make their way into one of the many albums that Louisa had stored in their family library at their home in London. And she knew that she herself would select the best one to frame and place on her bedside table where she would see it every morning when she awoke.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

After her appointment with Miriam, Margaret thought about her own holiday celebrations, free from the confines of family. The Christmas holidays in the towns bordering Margaret and Christopher's gated community had been festive with holiday music playing in every little store and public square. An abundance of greetings "Happy Christmas" and "Happy Holidays" as well as "Feliz Natal" rang out wherever they went. In their own gated community, the clubhouse had been festooned with seasonal evergreens and ornaments, all very tastefully done of course, with soft instrumental versions of carols bathing the dining room, ballroom and other public areas with a sophisticated ambiance. Even Angelo had altered his afternoon playlist from the usual showtunes and serenaded them with playful versions of popular holiday songs with Portuguese rhythms.

Christopher "celebrated" Christmas Day with an early round of golf with whatever friends weren't off to visit with family and with Margaret "celebrated" by watching an old holiday movie or two, enjoying a slow bath, and making her traditional phone calls to her two cousins who remained in England. Neither of her cousins had had children, and the three of them were the only family each had remaining, aside from her son. They spoke every Christmas, catching up on each others lives. She was sorry to learn that her cousin Sonia was battling breast cancer and might not be around for their usual chat next Christmas. It occurred to her that perhaps she should make the effort to visit next summer while Sonia was still alive

Normally they celebrated in the evening, feasting with the few friends who remained in the vicinity, thereby avoiding the club during the late morning and early afternoon when visiting families gathered for their holiday meal. Her close friend Carly had decamped to London to spend the Christmas holidays with her family. Sylvia usually spent the holiday with her two children in London as well, but her children decided to visit her this year for the week with their four children in tow. Sylvia had invited Margaret and Portia over Christmas Eve for an early afternoon tea while they were visiting …. it was bedlam for the two hour visit, but Sylvia seemed to revel in the chaos and beamed at every 'bon mot' uttered by her charming grandchildren. Margaret did her best to put on a merry face, but made her exit as soon as etiquette allowed, and she was still reeling from the juvenile onslaught the next day.

Fortunately Portia and her husband were still free for Christmas dinner, along with her daughter Daphne and her husband who were visiting for the holidays. Margaret supposed that this time next year, after Daphne had her baby, Portia would join the others in leaving Portugal at the holidays to spend time with her new grandchild. The thought that her three best friends would abandon her every Christmas Day from now on was annoying. She never did understand the appeal of spending time with noisy rambunctious children, yet her friends all seemed enchanted with their grandchildren. If she and Chris had been on speaking terms with Martin and his family, Margaret wondered if they would be expected to spend, at the very least, the occasional Christmas with his family. An hour or two spent in front of the Christmas tree opening presents would be tolerable. More than that would be unbearable. She knew her nerves could never endure that. Of course, Miriam managed to avoid that chaos, certainly she could as well. It annoyed her that she was unable to banish thoughts of Martin's family from her mind.

The tranquillity of their quiet Christmas day did give her a brief reprieve from planning the New Year's Eve party she and Christopher hosted ever year. All the vendors on whom she depended took the day off. Soon enough she was back to tweaking the menu with the caterers, ensuring that the party suppliers had ordered the correct number of tables and that the color scheme she had selected would be met, and checking on all the other details that made her parties a success. And in fact, the New Year's Eve party hosted by Margaret and Christopher Ellingham was the huge triumph that it always was. Everyone enjoyed the pre-dinner cocktails accompanied by the cheery tunes that Angelo provided on the piano. The caterer and her wait staff had outdone themselves, and the sit-down dinner was delicious. The music and dancing that followed provided just the right atmosphere for the celebrations, and with only few minutes before the start of the New Year, she and Chris ushered their guests down the short walk to the club where everyone gathered for the midnight celebration of fireworks and champagne. They all stayed to ring in the New Year with continued dancing and it was close to three in the morning before Margaret and Chris found themselves back in their villa and asleep in their respective beds. She may never have family celebrations, thank god, but she would always have her parties.

xxXxx

After the work involved in planning the party and ensuring it was a success, Margaret was grateful for the quiet that came with the first two weeks of the New Year. Miriam knew all about the various parties in the golf resorts surrounding her little village and was quick to ask each of her clients how their holidays went. Margaret couldn't help but tell her how well her party went and how many complements she received for the evening. "It was a wonderful party. It's been ages since I have received such attention and I danced and danced all evening. My feet were so sore New Year's Day, I could barely walk." She gave Miriam a rueful smile, indicating that she was actually pleased despite the pain to her bunions. Miriam had learned early on that Margaret wasn't one to lavish praise, and she understood that the complaint was her way of letting her know how much credit Margaret gave to her for her success.

"I'm glad to hear that it went well. No problems then with the headwrap or your hair falling out of place then?"

"No, it was perfect all evening. I hated to remove it. I felt just like Daisy Buchanan in the Great Gatsby." Margaret replied with just a slight titter.

"Good. Anything special today?"

"No, just the usual."

Miriam busied herself again talking of the gossip she had heard from her other clients. As she was putting the finishing touches to Margaret's hair, she mentioned that Louisa and her family would be at one of the nearby coastal resorts in two weeks' time. "Martin has a conference and Louisa decided to join him since she won't be doing much travelling after the baby makes its appearance. They'll arrive on Wednesday afternoon and leave Monday morning. Louisa said she and James will be on their own during the day on Thursday and Friday, but the conference will be over by noon on Saturday and she hopes the three of them can do a little sightseeing on Saturday afternoon and Sunday. I plan to join them Sunday and take them to some of my favourite spots. Plus, it will be my only chance to see them before this summer.

"How nice. I hope you enjoy your visit. Where did you say they would be?"

Miriam repeated the name of the resort and then added the various sights she hoped to show them.

"It sounds like it will be a nice visit, but so short. You should have your daughter bring her son here while her husband is working."

"I did ask, but she said Martin wouldn't be comfortable with her here, afraid something might happen." Miriam huffed and shook her head, "As if we don't have hospitals here."

"He sounds very controlling."

"Maybe, but I don't think he is. Even though he's not a baby doctor, I guess he knows what could happen and he wants to be near if something should go wrong. She says he was the same way when she was pregnant with James. When I think about it, I'm kinda glad. It means he is taking good care of her."

"I suppose." Margaret seemed a little sceptical as she removed her smock and left Miriam's fee on her station. She thought to suggest that Miriam go spend a few days with them at the resort, but then held her tongue as an idea formed. "I'll see you next week then?"

Margaret couldn't contain her excitement at knowing that Martin and his family would be in the area. It would be so easy to check out his wife and child whilst they were here, and she immediately began to hatch a plan to visit that resort. She would have to stay at least two nights to make certain that their paths would cross, and she would have to come up with some excuse that Christopher would believe to explain her absence. As soon as she arrived home, she called the resort and made a reservation for Thursday and Friday night, which would give her all day Friday to find Martin's wife and son and possibly even strike up a conversation to assess just how poorly Martin had chosen.

She thought about how both Joan and Ruth seemed to approve of the marriage. Of course, Joan would welcome this woman into the family. After all, Joan had married a farmer and worked the land like any common peasant; but despite all her conflicts with Ruth, she liked to think that Ruth was more discriminating. If Ruth spent all her holidays with Martin's family, perhaps there was hope. Perhaps Margaret would eventually be able to acknowledge their existence to her friends and be able to brag on her grandchildren along with the others. "Oh _Margaret"_ , she chastised herself. " _Don't get your hopes up. With Miriam as her mother, there is no way this woman Martin married could possibly be suitable."_

With the reservation made, she dashed off to the club to join her friends for tea.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Finally free from the stop and go traffic in town, Margaret felt a thrill of excitement surge through her veins as she began her adventure. She had Persephone's top down with the wind coursing all around her as she sped down the coastal road. Explaining her trip to Christopher was simple. She had learned the fine art of dissimulation early on; living and manoeuvring successfully in London society required it. She casually mentioned one evening that her old school friend, Dayna was to be taking a holiday down the coast with her family and had asked Margaret to come down and visit for a day or two. There really was a Dayna although she hadn't heard from her in years, but Christopher wasn't interested enough to question her story. As he focused on some article in his golf magazine, she elaborated, knowing that he wasn't really paying attention. She told him she would be away for two nights and would have her mobile if he needed to contact her. To extend the pretence of an innocent trip, she threw out that he was welcome to come along if he liked. As she knew full well, he wasn't interested in joining her, preferring to stay and play golf with his friends. As he left that morning for his early tee time, he wished her a safe trip with a quick wave of his hand. At least he remembered she would be away.

She had never done anything like this before, sneaking off to spy on another person and that person her only child. Quite honestly, there _were_ moments when she doubted herself. Was she daft to go through with such an escapade? Well, what if she were? It was exciting to step outside of her usual proper matronly role and try on a newer persona. Perhaps her mission wasn't as daring as those of Mata Hari's or Josephine Baker's, or even Nancy Wake's, the WWII British agent the Nazi's christened the "White Mouse", but it was most certainly daring for a woman whose only other real escapade had been with her friend Daphne Scott when they used to steal from Mrs. Jessup's shop back in school. Even Carly didn't know the extent of those capers. Eventually they were caught and their parents notified. She was lucky that she hadn't been expelled. Even so, both she and Daphne had been labelled "thieves" and no one trusted either of them for months after that. It was so unfair; everyone stole from her nasty little shop; they just happened to get caught.

Ruth Ellingham, who had been a year behind her, had snubbed her from that day on and had almost sabotaged Margaret's marriage to her brother by revealing her thievery. Fortunately, when Margaret professed contrition for her youthful misdeed, Christopher's parents had been forgiving; after all, who didn't have a youthful indiscretion they wished would disappear. Nevertheless, Ruth continued to be cold towards her at every family gathering. But who needed Ruth anyway, an eccentric old maid. She was lucky, very lucky that Martin and his family took her in.

Margaret had planned this adventure carefully. After all, there were some risks involved. Certainly she would need to avoid Martin, but it wasn't just Martin who might recognize her. This was a medical conference she was infiltrating. A few of Christopher's old colleagues were still working who could be in attendance, and their wives as well. It had been years since she had seen any of them, but it was possible that one or another just might recognize her and word would get back to Christopher. If that were the case and he asked, she could just plead that it was all a coincidence, that Dayna's holiday had been in the same resort. She could have donned a disguise and used a false name, but that would be difficult to explain if word did get back. In fact, she had played with her hair, trying different styles, but in the end, none of them were suitable. If she were recognized, it was better to wave it away as a chance occurrence. Her only concessions to deception were her oversized tortoise shelled sunglasses for outdoor wear and a pair of glasses in a fashionable black frame to wear in the resort's interiors. The black frames were not particularly flattering and certainly less elegant than she would ordinarily have chosen. It was odd the way they made her feel as if she were a different person when she put them on, certainly not Margaret Ellingham.

She was able to reschedule her regular Thursday appointment with Miriam to early morning which enabled her to make her escape in time to arrive at the resort in the early afternoon. She wrapped a colorful scarf around her head, but even with that caution, it was likely that the wind in her hair would undo all of Miriam's efforts. No matter, it was truly exciting to be off, on the road, just herself and Persephone on an adventure. She felt like Grace Kelly speeding down the French Riviera in "To Catch a Thief". All she needed was Cary Grant in the passenger seat. "Too bad Cary's not available, Persephone. I'm sure you would have liked him." She threw a laugh into the wind and pressed a little harder on the accelerator.

Martin and his family had arrived on Wednesday so she shouldn't encounter them at her check-in on Thursday. She pulled into the reception area and gave her keys to the valet. Ordinarily she would have packed a minimum of two large bags for a stay at a posh resort such as this and would have required the assistance of the porter, but her stay this time would be short and she had only the one bag along with her purse so she opted to pull it into reception herself … no need to draw undue attention if there were any acquaintances in the lobby. Check in was simple as she handed the clerk her credit card, and she took her room key and followed the clerk's directions to her room in one of the wings away from the hustle of the conference.

It was late afternoon by the time she found her way to the pool area where she hoped to find Louisa and James. It would be after naptime for the boy, and Martin would still be engaged in the conference. She took a seat on one of the lounge chairs between the main pool and the children's pool, hoping they would soon appear, but after ten minutes there was no sign of them so she decided to brave the beach area. Stepping gingerly onto the sandy boardwalk that wound its way between the beach and the resort's extensive gardens, she wandered to the end of the resort area proper and then back again, but saw no sign of them. She did notice a children's play area tucked into the side of the resort at the end of one of the paths and caught a glimpse of a woman with a child. She walked in that direction thinking it might be Louisa and James. It was.

James was climbing on the play equipment and Louisa was sitting on a bench nearby. Margaret could think of no reason she could give for taking a bench near the playground, so she walked slowly by the area and paused to lean against the fence pretending to search for someone, whilst surreptitiously watching James and his mother interact. She wondered if Martin had ever played on such equipment. Certainly, _she_ had never accompanied him to one of the playgrounds near their home. Perhaps his nanny did; he was such a somber restrained child that she couldn't imagine him climbing on such play equipment or flying down a slide. There was so much of his childhood about which she knew nothing. She could feign regret, but she knew in her heart that she would do the same again. She just wasn't the motherly type. As she watched Louisa with James, it was apparent that Martin's wife was the motherly type. She was a teacher after all, but she pondered how Martin would need a wife with a more sophisticate urbane view of the world.

"Watch me, mummy," he cried.

"I am watching you James. Please be careful. Don't climb too high."

"I won't," He reassured her. Louisa rose and stepped carefully over the wood chips covering the ground to stand near her son, her hand supporting her back. The weight of her pregnancy was beginning to slow her down, and Margaret was surprised that Martin allowed her to come with him on this trip. True she wasn't due for another eight weeks if Miriam's intelligence was correct. Still babies were known to arrive early. She should be back in London near her doctors.

"One more minute, and then we need to go meet Daddy to wash up for dinner."

"Okay," he replied, climbing down and running to the slide where he grabbed hold of the ladder and determinedly climbed up, one rung at a time. "I want to go down the slide one more time."

Louisa moved closer to the edge of the slide and held up her hands, as if to catch him if he were to fall. "Okay, let's see you go down."

"Wheee …."

He landed in a heap at the bottom of the slide, obviously startled and began to cry. Louisa moved to the bottom of the slide, sat down, and helped him stand up, gathering him in her arms and soothing his tears away, "There, there. All better?"

He buried his face in her lap and hugged her as well as he was able given her size. "I'm okay mummy."

She ruffled his hair and kissed him on the top of his head. "Good, that's my big boy. Let's go."

By this time, Margaret had strolled on, not wanting to draw attention to herself, and she turned a corner to watch unnoticed as they went back towards the entrance to the hotel, James trotting ahead pulling Louisa as she struggled to keep hold of his hand.

Margaret went back to her room to contemplate Martin's family. His wife was beautiful, which reflected well on his taste, but her accent betrayed her parentage. It was obvious that she wasn't London society born, a mark against her; nonetheless, her accent wasn't terribly Cornish.

It was 5:30 already. Margaret perused the room service menu and decided to order her evening meal to be delivered at 7:30. In the meantime, she left her room to explore the resort, hoping to catch sight of Martin with his family as they dined. Ellinghams were notoriously early diners so she expected they would have an early reservation perhaps around 6pm. The resort was quite large and there were a number of restaurants scattered throughout; it might come down to chance to actually catch sight of the three of them, but she set out nonetheless. She decided to start her reconnaissance in the main lobby, donning her glasses and a dark cardigan sweater before walking down the hall in the direction of the reception area.

It was relatively quiet in the bright and airy lobby with only one guest checking in at this hour. No sign of Martin or his family so she moved on to the retail area of the resort. There were all sorts of souvenir shops to investigate and she stopped in one that was sited across from two of the resort restaurants, one a casual cafe and one a more sophisticated seafood restaurant. It was unlikely that one would take a three-year old into a formal restaurant, but she didn't know Martin. If he held James to the strict standard of behaviour his own father had imposed on him, they might enter any one of these eateries. She took her time examining the merchandise on offer in the shop, all the while keeping a sharp eye on the crowd that milled about the village area.

She noticed a tall man with very short hair and large ears; those ears, it had to be Martin. She ambled toward the front of the shop to get a better look. Yes, she saw Louisa, so it must be him. He was holding James' hand as they walked toward the cafe. She watched as they checked in with the hostess and were led to their table. All of the resort restaurants were open air and it was easy to watch diners as they ate. She continued to browse, looking up periodically to watch the small family's interactions. The hostess had brought a booster seat for James, and she saw them place their order.

Martin was seated facing in her direction and she watched him carefully. His expression was serious, his forehead creased and his mouth fixed in what some might call a grimace. He was explaining something to his wife, shaking his head slightly. She would tilt her head to one side and appear to ask a question and he would answer. Soon he nodded his head and looked up as a softer more quizzical expression crossed his face, and leaning across the table, he said something to Louisa. She replied animatedly … telling him about their day, Margaret supposed. He glanced over from time to time at James who was munching on a piece of bread Louisa had given him. It appeared that Martin would address his son who answered happily, softening the expression on Martin's face even more.

"May I help you madam?" She turned to see one of the clerks standing at her elbow. She had lost track of time and had undoubtedly drawn attention to herself by standing and staring out the door for longer than was seemly.

"Oh, no, no. I was just thinking what exactly would be the best gift for several of my friends." She waved her hand in the direction of the fountain across the way, "and I was distracted. The view is so pretty."

The clerk turned towards the fountain and replied, "Yes it is." She leaned in, anxious to make a sale, "Is there something particular you had in mind for your friends? Perhaps I could help you. Is it just one or two close friends, or a large circle of friends? We have some lovely coin purses over here, not too expensive. They make perfect gifts if you have a large group of friends."

"Oh yes. I'd like to see them." She led Margaret over to a shelf with a display of embroidered coin purses, eyeglass cases, mobile phone cases and the like. They were quite festive with resort themes. "Yes, there appears to be a good selection. Thank you." Margaret nodded her head and leaned over the display indicating that the clerk should let her browse alone. She picked up one or two of the items and then slid over to look out the shop windows again. Martin and his family had been served, and the three of them were focused their meal, only glancing up from time to time to smile at each other or to make what Margaret surmised was a brief comment on the meal. She noticed Louisa lean over the table to feed Martin a taste from her plate, after which he tilted his head and nodded as if to say it was good. James seemed to enjoy his dinner as well, and he offered his Dad a taste of his meal as well. When he tried to offer Martin another bite, Martin shook his head and pointed to James' mouth indicating that James should eat the rest of his meal. Margaret couldn't help but think what a sweet family picture they made. Would it be so bad to acknowledge Martin's choice of wife? She would have to think very hard about that.

Margaret looked at her watch and saw that it was half six, still an hour before her meal was to be delivered. She replaced the items she had selected back on the shelf and left the store, spent a few minutes exploring one or two other shops, and then returned to her room.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The sun had set by the time Margaret reached her room although there was still enough twilight remaining that she could see walkers out on the beach. It had been a tiring day and she decided to enjoy her dinner, read her book and make it an early night.

As she prepared for bed, she thought about what she had seen that afternoon and evening and felt her goal had been accomplished. She had seen Martin's wife and child and had even seen how he interacted with them. She really needed no further information. Whilst Louisa was very pretty and James was a cute little boy, as cute as any of her friends' grandchildren, she could never be comfortable introducing them as her son's wife and child. Martin seemed to be satisfied with his family, but she found that Louisa lacked a certain …. what would she call it …sophistication … panache, perhaps? She was just a little too animated, not quite as cultured as she should be, rather common around the edges. Regal … that was how Margaret liked to present herself, refined and dignified. No, Louisa was nothing like herself or any of her close friends. She would have to think long and hard before she would introduce her to her friends.

Thus resolved, she decided to enjoy the amenities offered in the resort on her one full day there. Perhaps the day called for a bit of lounging by the pool in the morning followed by a sumptuous midday meal and a visit to the spa in the afternoon. Most conferences of this sort included tours for the attendees' spouses and most wives took advantage of those opportunities, visits to local landmarks, historic buildings, even shopping trips. She herself had enjoyed those excursions many a time. She felt confident that she could wander the resort without encountering anyone she might know.

Even if she should cross paths with someone she had known in England, it was unlikely they would recognise her; it had been so long since she had seen any of them, and they wouldn't expect to see her. She looked in the mirror and assessed her appearance, again debating whether she should have adopted some type of disguise. How did those women who acted as secret agents ever embrace other personalities? There must be an art to it, something akin to the thespian's art of melding into character as they took the stage. Whatever it was, she didn't feel up to such a charade. She would keep a low profile as it were, keeping to the periphery and not drawing attention to herself.

It would have been exciting to adopt a flamboyant and glamorous identity; certainly, it would have been more fun, slipping into one of the resort bars to flirt with any single men she might fine. But such a persona was not appropriate for the mission she had set for herself. She was there to observe, not be observed. Surely those old female operatives had to fade into the background at times as well. She wished she had taken a few drama classes back in school, but it was the girls with the bad reputations who flocked to drama, not those hoping to catch the right kind of husband.

xXx

It was late when she awoke the next morning. She had slept well, and she was quite hungry. She was certain that Martin and his family would be early risers. Children always rose early as did Christopher when he was working. It was likely that Martin and his family had taken their breakfast in their room and had already started their day, so she decided to risk taking hers in the café facing the beach. She rarely had more than a good cup of strong coffee and a piece of toast, but she decided to splurge this morning and selected a sweet pastry and some fruit to have along with her coffee. She opened her book and glanced down at it from time to time as she stirred her coffee to ensure that she looked busy while she ate. No need to encourage other diners to join her. The beach was wide and sandy here bordering right up to the edge of the cafe, and the water was a clear azure blue, really quite lovely if you liked that sort of thing.

She decided to spend some time relaxing near the pool; the day was warm for late January and the pool area was sheltered from the ocean breeze so she went back to her room to don a swimsuit and a beach cover-up. She grabbed a floppy hat, her sunglasses and her book and made her way down to the pool area where she found a chaise under a large umbrella at the shallow end of the pool near the children's pool area. She had only been there for a few minutes when she noticed Louisa and James arrive. They had obviously been at the beach for James carried a small bucket with a spade and rake. Louisa had a tote with what appeared to be more toys, a ball and a toy shark of all things, sunscreen, and several towels.

They both wore flip flops and swimwear. James had trunks and a swim top, obviously to protect his skin from the sun. Louisa was wearing a stylish multi-coloured cover-up, but when she removed it, Margaret was shocked at the swimsuit she was wearing. It was a two-piece suit with a dark bikini bottom and a multicoloured halter top that stretched revealingly over her swollen belly. It was disgraceful even if it was the style these days. She would never have worn such an outfit when she was expecting Martin. Again, she sighed and shook her head at the thought that Martin's wife had no sense of decorum. Such attire reflected not just poor taste, but also poor judgement. What must Martin's colleagues think seeing his wife parade around in such a fashion!

It just confirmed her decision not to try for a reconciliation. She returned her attention to her book whilst Louisa played with James in the pool tossing a ball back and forth. Louisa would throw the ball, James would duck into the shallow water and swim to catch it and then throw it back. Margaret herself would have tired of this game after a minute or less, but James seemed to love the repetition and Louisa was more than willing to encourage him.

At some point, perhaps a good 10-15 minutes into the game, James threw the ball a little too hard and it rolled out of the pool in Margaret's direction and landed right under her chair. It startled her and she was uncertain how to react. James jumped out of the pool, trotted over to her side and stared at her, uncertain how to retrieve his ball. She peered over her sunglasses, giving him a stern look, "Yes?"

"Uh … my ball." He wasn't certain what he should do and he looked somewhat frightened as he pointed in the direction of her chair.

This was a good opportunity to see how well they were raising this child. He didn't immediately scrabble under her chair to get the ball. Perhaps they were instilling _some_ manners into him. She leaned up and asked, 'Your ball?"

He was shifting from one foot to another as Louisa walked up smiling at her, "I'm so sorry, but my son's ball has rolled under your chair. Would you mind if he slipped behind you to retrieve it?"

Now it was her turn to be polite, "Of course."

Louisa pointed to where the ball was resting and Margaret shifted her legs to the opposite side of her chair to make room for James, who quickly stepped behind her and picked up his ball. He started to run back to the pool, but Louisa stopped him, prompting, "James, what do you say?"

He stepped back to face Margaret and looked down at his feet whilst he rolled the ball in his chubby fingers, "Thank you Miss."

Margaret smiled at him and replied, "You're very welcome James."

He looked up into her eyes and gave her a quick grin before walking back to the pool.

"Again, I'm so sorry we had to disturb you. Thank you for your patience."

"It was no bother. You're welcome."

Margaret shifted back into her seat and returned her attention to her book, but she found herself captivated by the child and she continued to sneak looks in their direction. At one point she pulled out her phone, and pretending to write a text message, took several pictures of James to remember him by, including one or two with Louisa.

Shortly she heard Louisa exclaim, "Oh James, look who's coming to meet us."

The conference must have broken for lunch because Martin was walking towards them. She pulled her hat a bit lower over her face and reached down into her bag for a magazine, opening it to scan the table of contents. With her face concealed by the magazine, her hat, and her sunglasses, she was fairly certain he would not recognise her. It would be dreadful if he were to focus on her. Fortunately, he was focused on Louisa and James which offered her the opportunity to surreptitiously examine him.

He was wearing a dark bespoke suit that fit him perfectly with a blue dress shirt and patterned tie. Margaret had to admit he looked quite distinguished. If only his facial features were more regular, he could have been, if not handsome, at least attractive. As it was, his hair was cut shorter than it needed to be, a little longer and it would have hidden much of his overly large ears which distracted from his overall appearance. She still did not know where those ears and his equally oversized lips came from. Neither she nor Christopher had such features; there must have been some recessive genomes from generations ago at work when he was conceived. Louisa obviously didn't find them repulsive because she was beaming at him and James had become even more animated.

"Daddy, Daddy, look what I can do." James shouted, and he put his head into the water and paddled toward the opposite end of the small pool.

"Very nice, James," Martin commended his son as James rose from the water and turned around looking for his father's approval. "I believe it's time to take a break and eat lunch. Are you hungry?"

'Yes," James splashed up and down in the water.

"Come back then so we can go eat."

"I'll swim back." He took a giant breath, tucked his head under the water, and wind-milled back to where Martin was standing.

"Martin, can you get a towel from my bag for James?" Louisa asked as she waded in his direction at the side of the pool.

"Yes." Martin grabbed a towel just as James reached the edge and started to climb out. 'Here James, let's rinse off that pool water." He led him over to the outdoor shower and removed his swim shirt. He motioned for James to stand under the shower spigot. "James, stand right here." He himself took several steps away from James and leaned over to turn on the water. "Louisa, would you tend to James so I don't have to get wet. I have a Q&A that I must lead after lunch."

"Of course." She walked over and supervised James' shower and then turned him over to his father before rinsing herself. Martin wrapped the boy in the towel and began to rub down his legs, arms and torso before moving to his face and drying his hair. "There that should do it for now. Louisa, do you have a dry shirt or something we can put on to keep him from getting chilled?"

"Yes, his hoodie sweatshirt is in my bag. I'm sure his trunks will dry out quickly."

Martin quickly found James' sweatshirt and put it on him. He also took a comb out of the bag and ran it through James' hair so he looked quite well groomed for having just come out of the pool. Margaret watched this scenario with undisguised interest and wished she were close enough to take another picture of James with his hair neatly combed. He really was a handsome child; he bore some resemblance to his father with his blond colouring, but his features were more even, not as outsized as Martin's.

Whilst Martin was tending to James, Louisa finished her shower, dried off and put on her cover-up. " _Thank god"_ , Margaret thought, " _At least she has the sense to make herself presentable away from the pool._ " Louisa gathered up their wet towels and James' toys, and stowed them in her bag after putting on some rather stylish sandals that matched her cover-up perfectly. With her hair piled neatly on top of her head, Margaret thought she actually looked the part of a successful surgeon's wife on holiday. Louisa handed her tote bag to Martin and took James' hand. As they walked away, Margaret could hear Louisa ask Martin, "How did it go?"

"Well."

"Good."

Margaret decided against the heavy meal she had planned since it might make her visit to the spa uncomfortable. She took a light midday meal on the balcony of her room rather than dine alone in public. Her room faced the sea and there was a pleasant breeze coming off the ocean. For late January, it was quite delightful. She had to admit she was enjoying her trip immensely. She might not be entirely enamoured with Martin's family, but the rest of her trip had been most enjoyable. She was looking forward to her afternoon in the spa and, she had to admit, she was still curious about her son and his family. She was certain she could find the opportunity to catch another look at the three of them before leaving the next morning.


	11. Chapter 11

**"Chapter 11**

"How did it go?" Louisa asked Martin as they left the pool area. She knew Martin was presenting an important paper to the conference that morning, and she had been thinking about him all day. He was always supremely confident in himself and his work, and he really was the best, she knew that. Still, things sometimes go wrong, the A-V equipment could malfunction or someone could contest his results.

"Well." He nodded his head in response. Martin could still be monosyllabic, but she knew if something had gone wrong he wouldn't have hesitated to open up with an excoriating rant.

"Good." There was no need to push him for details that she wouldn't understand in any event. He had explained his research to her over the course of the past several months, in layman's terms of course. She loved that he took the time to share his thoughts with her, to share bits of his world that helped her understand how he spent his days and why some days were better than others.

Sharing the details of their day was part of their evening routine and she knew that Martin enjoyed explaining his work to her just as he enjoyed when she explained some of the problems she had with her students or the school's administration. He added, "I still have the Q&A session from two to three this afternoon. Will you and James be napping then?"

"I expect James will nap this afternoon. We had a busy morning, didn't we James?" She looked down at her son who was listening intently to his parent's conversation.

"Yes." He nodded his head up and down. "Robbie and I built a sand castle on the beach. Can we go show it to Daddy?"

"Robbie?" Martin looked at Louisa inquisitively.

She addressed James first. "We can show Daddy the sand castle if he has time after lunch." Turning to Martin, she clarified, "Robbie is Sallie and Robert's son." Again, Martin gave her a questioning look. "Your old colleague? Robert Dashwood? Robbie's only a few months older than James." Louisa lowered her voice conspiratorially, "And Sallie told me they are expecting another as well in August."

"You're kidding! He's much too old to be fathering another child."

"He's not that much older than you."

"At least ten years, probably fifteen. He'll be over eighty before that child is out of school. What was he thinking?"

"I suspect he wasn't thinking at the time." She looked at him with a twinkle in her eye.

"Humph."

James tugged on his mother's hand. "Can we show Daddy the castle? Please."

"James, I told you … After lunch, if there's time, we will show it to Daddy, but now we're here and it's time to eat. I thought you were hungry."

They entered the casual restaurant adjacent to the beach and were seated next to the fish pond that was at the centre of the restaurant. There were several boardwalks crossing the pond where diners could observe the fish swimming amongst the reeds and water lilies. James was fascinated by the fish in the pond and Louisa took him over to examine the different fish while they waited for their lunch to be served. Martin stayed seated at the table and watched in fascination as his wife and son examined the fish in the pond. He wondered if there might be a children's book on fish in one of the shops in the resort. Even a more advanced book with appropriate pictures could provide him and James hours of enjoyment and be educational for James as well. As he was engaged in thought, he was interrupted.

"Ahem." He looked up to see one of the physicians attending the conference standing over him. Martin looked up and the man introduced himself extending his hand in greeting,"Silvio Fonseca."

Martin ignored his outstretched hand, "Yes?"

"Mr. Ellingham, I attended your presentation this morning. It was brilliant."

Martin scowled at the man and grunted, "Mm."

The man took that as permission to continue and he pulled out a chair and sat down hoping to engage Martin in conversation, "I wonder if I might ask you a technical question on …"

Martin quickly cut him off, "Q&A is at two o'clock. Ask your question then."

"But this will only take a moment."

"No. I'm busy. Go away."

Martin had raised his voice so that Louisa turned around, "Martin?"

He turned to reassure her, "It's nothing Louisa. This man is just leaving." He turned back to the man who was still seated at the table, mouth agape, and repeated, "Q&A is at two pm. Now good-bye."

"But, but … "the man stammered as he rose, but Martin returned his attention to his family and the man finally gave up and reluctantly walked away.

Just then the waiter came with their meal, and Louisa guided James away from the fish pond and back to the table. She knew his encounter with this doctor was typical Martin Ellingham behaviour, the arrogance that had given him his difficult reputation. At times it distressed her. Why couldn't he be politer, or at least more politic? Even now, after five years of marriage, she found his behaviour embarrassing at times. As much as she wanted to suggest a more cordial way to handle people such as this man, especially at a conference where informal discussions were expected, she knew from experience she wasn't going to change him. Nevertheless, she felt compelled to say, "Martin, you could have been more courteous to that man."

"Why?" He was examining James' hands as if he was debating whether to take him back to the lavatory for one more wash.

"He's a colleague. You might need his help in future."

"Not likely. He sounded Portuguese."

"Still", she shook her head and rolled her eyes, " _He's hopeless_ ". She knew that many people were unable to understand her devotion to him. She sighed and sat down to her meal as Martin, satisfied that James' hands were acceptable for lunch, gently helped James into his booster seat. If others could see him now as he tended to James, tenderly brushing the back of his fingers across his cheek before settling himself in his seat, they might understand why she loved him.

"Daddy, you should see the fish in the pond. They are all different colours." James started a conversation after popping several pieces of the fish Martin had cut for him into his mouth.

"Finish chewing your fish and then tell me what colours you saw, James." Martin knew this was a learning moment, naming all the colours.

James swallowed his fish and then answered animatedly, "There was an orange fish and a yellow one and two blue ones . And a green one!"

"I don't remember seeing the green one James." Louisa questioned her son.

James started to climb down from his chair, 'Let me show you."

"No. We can look for it later James. Sit down and eat your lunch."

"I'll eat fast." James started to gulp down the pasta that came with his fish.

"James, eat slowly. You don't want to choke." Martin chided him. "There will be time to look for the green fish after we finish."

Martin turned to Louisa, "What do you and James have planned for this afternoon after your naps?"

"I may call Sallie to see if she and Robbie want to go back out to the beach so the boys can play at the water's edge … if the wind doesn't pick up. It was nice and warm this morning. Or they might enjoy the playground. James and I were there yesterday afternoon and James quite enjoyed it. We'll see. It's been nice getting to know Sallie better and it's wonderful for James to have someone his own age to play with."

"Yes. You do realise that the sun will be at its strongest at that time of day. It might be better to stay in the shade if the playground is sheltered. If you do go to the beach, be sure to use plenty of sunscreen. Better yet, hire an umbrella and stay under that as much as possible."

''Yes Martin." Louisa huffed. "I do know how to protect James from the sun."

"Good. There's a discussion panel that I want to attend at four, but I should be finished with the formal sessions by five. What would you like to do this evening?"

They continued to discuss their plans for the next two days. Louisa was looking forward to visiting some of the sights with Martin the next day, perhaps taking James to the zoo or on a short boat trip. Martin wanted to explore one of the beaches famous for shell collecting with James. He remembered how much he enjoyed finding special shells when he went beach combing with Joan and Phil when he was little.

They only had one day to themselves because her mother would join them on Sunday Louisa was looking forward to seeing her mother. It had been a while since she had seen her, not since the two weeks they had spent together the previous summer. Somehow in the last few years, since James' birth actually, she and her mother had become closer. Her mother still liked to tease her, but she had learned not to take it all so personally. And being a mother to James helped her understand some of the restrictions she had rebelled against as a child. Where she once bristled at her mother's intrusions into her life, she now saw her interference as the concern it was. She now understood that her mother was trying to protect her, not really restrict her.

She knew that Martin was not looking forward to spending all day Sunday with her mother, and that could be a problem. Miriam seemed to delight in winding him up, pushing his buttons until he exploded. She must speak to Miriam about that before Sunday. It just wasn't necessary, and Louisa didn't want Martin's last day to be ruined by a confrontation with his mother-in-law. Martin could be something of a snob, but he had been good about accepting that his mother-in-law was family despite her poor education and plebeian sensibilities. Nonetheless Miriam seemed to sense his disdain for some of her ideas. Perhaps he and James could wander off while she had a good visit with her mum.

As they finished up their meal and were leaving the restaurant, James was quick to remind Martin that he had promised to go see the sand castle he had built. Martin looked at his watch and then at Louisa, "It's nearly 1:40. I do need to get back and prepare for my last session and make certain that the room is properly set-up for my Q&A's."

"Daddy has to go back to work James." Louisa could see the disappointment in James face and the tears welling up. "Tell you what. Why don't you and I go take a picture of it to show Daddy when he finishes his work?"

James' face lit up, "Okay. Can I take the picture?"

"Of course." Louisa smiled down at James while Martin scowled. "I don't think …"

"It'll be fine Martin. Now go back to your session. We don't want you to be late." She reached up to give him a peck on the cheek, but Martin squatted down to speak with James. "I'll look forward to seeing your picture James."

James leaned into his Dad to hug him, almost toppling Martin. "Okay. Bye Daddy"

Martin held onto James' arms to regain his balance and looked seriously into his son's eyes. "James, I'm sorry I can't go see your sand castle. I look forward to seeing the picture."

"Okay Daddy. I will take lots of pictures." James replied with a big grin.

"Good. Now James, I have a job for you. When you finish taking your pictures and you go up to the room to take a nap, I want you to make sure that Mummy rests also. Can you make sure that she lies down too?"

James nodded his head, "I will Daddy." Looking up to his mother, he added, "We'll both take a nap, won't we mummy?"

Louisa huffed as Martin straightened up, "Martin, I'm not sure my napping is really necessary, but I will rest."

"Louisa, you are in your last trimester. I think it prudent that you take extra care to ensure that both you and the baby are healthy as your delivery date approaches."

Despite his lecturing tone, he was looking at her with that soft expression that always melted her heart, and she found herself responding, "Don't worry. I will rest when James takes his nap. We'll be so full of energy later that you won't be able to keep up with us." With a twinkle in her eye, she reached up and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, which in an unusual move, he reciprocated.

His kiss surprised her. He was still not one to show affection in public. As he walked away, she noticed two conference members approach him. She heard one of them compliment him on his beautiful wife and son. He replied with his usual grunt, but she couldn't help wondering. In one of his rare candid moments of reflection a year or so ago as they lay in bed together in the afterglow of a particularly sensuous act of love, he shared that upon occasion a colleague would jokingly ask him how he managed to get Louisa to marry him. It had happened more than once, in fact many times, since they had been together. When she asked him how he replied to that question, he told her that he never responded.

Although she understood that he was reticent to share their private life, which was certainly none of anyone else's business, she had to ask, "Never? Why not?"

His reply? "I don't know the answer … but I'm glad you did."

Secretly she thought he was pleased that other men were impressed that she was with him. After this kiss, in full view of other professionals at the conference, she had to wonder if it was a show of pride, unconscious perhaps, but pride nonetheless that he was in possession of a beautiful wife who was about to present him with a second child. She smiled to herself as she thought that even her very highly educated, sophisticated husband might have latent caveman tendencies.

He surprised her again later that evening with a more sensuous kiss when they were walking on the beach with James after supper. The sun was sinking behind the horizon as they walked out for a short stroll just above the water's edge, and the clouds were glittering with the pinks and purples of a magnificent sunset. Golden rays briefly shot out through the clouds and across the sky in a final burst of light before the spectacle faded and dusk settled over the water. "What a beautiful sunset," Louisa exclaimed.

"Yes." Martin agreed as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Wasn't that pretty James?" Louisa encouraged her son, who had found a stick of driftwood and was poking at the sand.

"Yes, Mummy." He suddenly dropped the stick and ran over to a mound of sand, "Mummy. This was our sand castle. It's gone." He had taken several pictures of his castle to show Martin, but was hoping it would still be on the beach and was extremely disappointed to see the water had washed most of it away.

"Stupid ocean," James exclaimed angrily, kicking at the sand.

"Mmm. You're angry." Louisa commiserated.

"Yes. The water is mean."

"No," Louisa felt the need to explain. "The ocean is just doing what it is supposed to do, smoothing out the sand for people to enjoy tomorrow. We can talk about it then. How does that sound?"

"Kay." James replied, scuffing his beach shoes in the sand and only somewhat mollified.

Martin squatted down to look his son in the eye, trying to comfort him, "It was a very nice castle, what is left of it. I could tell from your pictures. And you will always have those pictures to remember."

"I know Daddy," James replied as he gazed despondently over to the remains of his sand castle.

They continued on their walk. Martin had taken hold of Louisa's hand whilst James wandered down to the water's edge, running back to his parents when the surf rushed up to tickle his toes with each new wave. They had reached the end of the resort property and they paused to gaze back out to sea. There were only a few other beachcombers strolling along the beach as the light faded, and Louisa let go of Martin's hand so she could wrap her arm around his back, "This is nice. Just the three of us"

He pulled her closer and, nuzzling his face in her hair, whispered, "Yes." With a quick glance around the beach to ascertain that they were relatively alone and that James was safely far from the water, Martin lightly embraced Louisa and kissed her gently on the lips. "I'm glad you're here tonight."

She gazed up into his eyes and returned the kiss with a bit more passion. "Mmm … me too."

"Daddy, I'm tired. Carry me." Martin felt a tug on his trousers and looked down, arching a stern eyebrow towards the young face peering up at him.

James remembered to add, "Please?"

"Yes, of course." Martin released Louisa and leaned down to gingerly lift James off of the sand. Holding his son in his arms so that James' back was resting on his chest and his feet were hanging loosely away from his body, he faced Louisa, "Can you dry off his feet so I don't get sand on my clothes?"

"Certainly," Louisa had brought a small towel for just this purpose and quickly brushed off James' feet. As Martin readjusted James in his arms and settled him against his shoulder, Louisa reached up and brushed her lips against his cheek, whispering in his ear, "Wish we could have carried that last moment to its proper conclusion."

Martin gave her a quick wry smile, "Mmm … me too."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Margaret couldn't believe what she was seeing, Martin and his wife in a passionate embrace, out on the beach in full view of all the resort guests! Whilst she was waiting on room service to bring her evening meal, she was lounging on the balcony of her room gazing out at the sea remembering the delights she had enjoyed earlier in the day. She had noticed that Martin his family were amongst the few remaining resort guests strolling along the beach as the sun dropped further and further below the horizon. Martin was holding his wife's hand as they walked and James was running back and forth between his parents and the water's edge. They were the picture of happy domesticity.

Room service interrupted her reverie and when she returned to the window, she noticed they had stopped to take in the view, such as it was with the sun well below the horizon. She watched them interact standing closely watching James testing the water as it rushed up to tickle his toes and rushed back out again. She was about to sit down to her dinner when Martin suddenly embraced his wife and gave her an extended kiss, a kiss that lasted much longer than was seemly. Did they not realise that they were in full view of other resort guests who might be about? True they were no more than silhouettes against the scant light remaining in the evening sky, but Margaret could see that there were several other guests strolling through the gardens or sitting out on their balconies just as she was. The view of the village lights twinkling on the hillside just over the harbour were enchanting, but any one of those guests, should they glance towards the sea, would be a witness to the couple on the beach sharing an intimate moment. That kind of behaviour should be reserved for the privacy of their room, not the public beach. What if his colleagues were to observe them? It was scandalous.

Thank God for James, who soon required their attention, breaking their embrace. Martin picked him up and they made their way back to the building, Martin carrying James with one arm while still holding Louisa's hand. As they wound their way through the gardens adjacent to the beach, she saw them pause looking at something along the path's edge. They turned to continue, but not before Louisa reached up to kiss Martin's cheek. She supposed the physical affection they shared implied that they were a happy family, but she was embarrassed by their lack of decorum. She knew her dinner was getting cold, but she couldn't stop looking. She felt like the proverbial moth to the flame. They stopped briefly to chat with an older gentleman and his much younger wife and child before entering the building. The man looked familiar and she later realised that it was Robert Dashwood, one of Christopher's younger colleagues. Had he remarried? She remembered his wife Grace had passed away several years ago. She had been a good friend, a colleague of sorts in the hospital auxiliary. They had had two daughters who by now would be grown with families of their own. Perhaps that woman was one of his daughters with his grandson? Whether she was a new wife or his daughter didn't matter. Either way, it must now be considered not only acceptable, but desirable to bring family to these conferences. My, how times had changed!

Margaret lifted the cover to her evening meal. It looked delicious and fortunately it had stayed warm enough whilst she was riveted on the drama out on the beach. This resort certainly had an accomplished chef on staff. Her mid-day meal had been equally gratifying. "Scrummy" was the word they would have used way back in the day in school. It couldn't be better.

All in all, her day had been wonderful until she spied Martin and Louisa on the beach. She sipped her wine and shook her head in disgust as she thought about the two of them and their indiscretions, " _Martin_ , _Martin_ , _Martin, you were raised to know better than that._ " It was obviously his wife's working class proclivities that influenced him to behave so brazenly. There was little she could do now to correct his behavior. _"Ah well_ ," she sighed, " _Time to forget about them and enjoy what is left of my visit_." She lifted the glass of the rich full-bodied red wine she had ordered, swirled it around to release the bouquet, took another sip, and then lifted her glass in a toast to a brief but fabulous holiday.

She had stayed by the pool for a few minutes after Martin and his family had left before making her way to her room just in time for the delivery of her lunch. The remainder of the afternoon she spent at the spa, an entire afternoon of pampering with a full massage, a facial, and a mani and pedi. She couldn't imagine having a more relaxing afternoon. She felt invigorated and gazing out at the beach and water, she felt the sea calling to her. Of course, the sea was much too cold for swimming this time of year, but even if it were summer, a woman of her station would never go cavorting in the surf, it just wasn't done; but a dignified stroll just above the water's edge was always acceptable.

She headed up to her room to change into some slacks and a matching top. It was just half four but the sun was getting low in the sky. The day had been pleasantly warm, warmer than usual for winter in southern Portugal, but Margaret knew that the temperature would drop quickly as sunset approached and the breeze off the ocean picked up. It would be chilly before she returned to her room. She grabbed a sweater, along with her hat and sandals, and took the lift down to the beach level. She exited the elevator and practically ran into Louisa and James who were waiting to go up to their room. She nodded her head in polite acknowledgement of Louisa and gave her a small smile.

Louisa responded in kind, 'Hello. I hope you are having a good visit."

"Lovely, thank you. You? as well?" Margaret replied, and without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away. She could feel Louisa's eyes staring after her as she stepped cautiously over the sand covered tiles heading toward the beach. She quickly glanced back to catch Louisa's puzzled look as if she knew there was something about Margaret she should know, but couldn't put her finger on. Louisa turned away sharply, shrugging her shoulders, and guided James into the elevator, likely to clean up for an early dinner with Martin.

Margaret was surprised when she ran into Louisa as she left the lift. The conference was still in session, but Martin could easily have been with them, and that realisation left her with a fright that shook her usual composure. She must be more careful for the remainder of her visit. The encounter at the pool after seeing them at the playground the evening before had been more than sufficient. Margaret had no desire to become friends with this woman, not before she had been able to sort out her feelings about this little family.

She opened the door leading to the terrace where she threaded her way through the tables and chairs now scattered haphazardly around the patio after a busy day of tourists enjoying the amenities of the resort. She slipped her sandals off and stepped onto the soft sand, still warm from the sun. She took a few steps and stopped, inhaling the sweet smell of the ocean, fresh and briny at the same time. Only a few families were still on the beach gathering their things to come in and prepare for afternoon refreshments or an early dinner. There were several walkers as well, singles and couples bent over looking for shells, or striding determinedly to work up an appetite, or simply wandering staring out to the sea watching the few remaining sailboats manoeuvre their way back to the harbour before dusk.

She walked out to the edge of the ocean, staying just to the outer edge of the water without actually getting wet, but close enough to feel the cool sand between her toes. How often did she do this as a girl? It had been years since she had swum and splashed in the sea, a lifetime really. She had played often enough as a child; any daughter of the royal navy had to be at home in the sea and she had spent hours cavorting in the waves with all the other children and running along the edge of the water as they chased one another laughing. But that all stopped once she entered her teens. Her mother was adamant that young ladies must always behave appropriately and appear well groomed at all times. Always stay on the edge, her mother cautioned her, never actually in the water. Getting wet would be unseemly for a young society girl; the right sort of young men wanted their future wives to comport themselves with dignity, not recklessness. Even wading in the water's edge could be seen as common.

She pondered how times had changed, how her mother's advice might no longer be relevant; and even if it were, she wasn't there to admonish her if she were to venture a few steps into the water. Would it hurt to dip her feet into the water? She stood still and when the surf surged up, she didn't budge. It was a tad cold and she shivered a bit as it bubbled over her toes and up to her ankles. " _What a delicious sensation!_ " she thought to herself, and she followed the water as it sped back down to go out and repeat its cycle. Soon a new waved crashed on shore and the water sped towards her, faster than she had expected when suddenly it covered her ankles and half her calves, soaking the hem of her slacks. She backed away for a moment, long enough to roll up the cuffs of her slacks, and then she ventured back toward the rushing water as it washed up onto the sand to tickle her toes again. She was entranced. How was it that she had waited all these year before going back in the water? She stood letting the surf wash over her ankles as she stared out to sea. Was strict adherence to her mother's code of conduct really necessary? Margaret had never questioned it before, but now she wondered.

She wandered on, keeping her feet just near enough to feel the rush of the surf on her toes and ankles each time a new wave hit the beach. She thought about her son and his family, how Martin had both his wife and his child accompany him to this conference. It baffled her. She and Christopher would never have considered taking Martin with them while travelling; it just wasn't done. Children were an inconvenience in such a venue where socializing with the other attendees and their wives was of primary importance if one wished to further one's career. Best to leave them home with the nanny.

She wondered if James had a nanny. She thought back to what Miriam had told her of Louisa's life. She seemed to remember that she had left her job as head teacher at Portwenn Primary and had taken a position in one of the primary schools near their home in London. There must be a nanny if they were both working. Perhaps she would stop working when the new baby came. But even then, she would need help if she were to continue on in her work with the hospital auxiliary. Margaret had a sudden horrifying thought, " _Did Louisa participate in the auxiliary, as any well-bred department head's wife should?_ " Margaret had just assumed, but with her working-class upbringing, she might not have understood the importance of her role as Martin's wife. It was all wrong. Once again, she fretted over Martin's poor choice of a wife. If only she and Christopher had been able to guide him, but once he left for university he ignored their advice and the example they had tried to set, preferring to make his own way. If she had been able to help him find a more socially appropriate wife, she would now be able to show off photos of her grandchildren as proudly as any of her friends. But now …. it was hopeless.

Her drive home was uneventful. She was able to check out of the hotel from her room and leave mid-morning without encountering any of the conference attendees. Most were either attending the last session that morning or had left to do some sightseeing before catching a flight back from whence they came. She had been tempted to visit the water's edge before checking out. Her walk on the beach the evening before had been so delightful, but she decided against it. It wasn't prudent to expose herself so openly among the remaining guests. Martin may not have left and there were others who might recognise her. But the memory of her glorious stroll in the water remained; she must do it again.

Back at home, nothing had changed. The Tuesday morning bridge group continued as usual, with "tea" every afternoon at the club followed by dinner with the other couples with whom they socialized. And the gossip; it never changed; in one way the sameness of it all was comforting, but in another way, it was stifling. Was this all there was to be for the next twenty years before her time came. Yes, there was her monthly book club discussing the latest English language best-sellers, there was occasional travel, and there was always her charity work. It was pleasant and occasionally fun … and it was safe. But was that what she really wanted?


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

After her trip to the conference, Margaret visited Miriam in her salon for her usual Thursday afternoon appointment. She was curious about Miriam's visit with Martin and his family but felt it wasn't her place to pry openly. She needed to be more circumspect so she casually mentioned the weather as they walked toward the sink for her shampoo. "It certainly has been warmer than usual this winter, hasn't it?"

"Seems 'bout normal to me. It's always nice here in the winter … better than England, that's for sure."

Miriam wrapped a towel around Margaret's neck, "Where did you live before you moved here Margaret?"

"We were in London, and yes you are right, the weather is much more agreeable here."

Miriam massaged the back of her neck as she worked on her shampoo, reminding Margaret of the massage she had experienced last Friday at the resort, and she felt her body relax at the memory. What did it matter if Miriam had a good visit with Martin and Louisa or not. She really needed to let go of this fantasy of hers that they might reconcile. It was time.

Miriam had noticed the change in her client, the release of tension in her shoulders. "Ah. That's better. You were wound tighter than my gramma's girdle on a Sunday morning. Rough week?"

"No, no. It was fine. I was just thinking about one of my friends. Her daughter is expecting a baby in May, and to tell the truth, I find it so tiresome when she natters on and on about how excited she is." Now why did she say that. It can be customary to confide in one's long-time hairdresser, but she hadn't been with Miriam more than six months, entirely too soon to be sharing confidences. "This shampoo just felt so good, so relaxing."

"Yeah, that's my goal. I like my clients to feel like they've been pampered when they're here. So … your friend is expecting a grandchild. My Louisa is expecting her second in a month or so as well. Do you have any grandchildren Margaret? I don't think you've ever said anything about your family."

"No …. No grandchildren. Not that I wouldn't like some, but it's not meant to be, I'm afraid." She responded with a wan smile and a hint of despondence.

"And why is that, may I ask?"

"Oh", Margaret waved her hand in the air. "Our son is one of those men married to his work. I don't think he has time for a wife, let alone children."

"Mmmm. I know the type …. But you never know. He might get hit by a bolt of lightning one day and fall head over heels. I think that's what happened to Louisa's husband."

"Perhaps", Margaret replied dubiously as she moved restlessly in her chair. " _This conversation is getting a little too close for comfort. I need to move it along,_ _although … I might as well ask her how her weekend went._ "

Miriam rinsed her hair and wrapped it in a towel and they walked back to her chair. As Margaret settled into the chair, she casually asked, "Speaking of Louisa, weren't you away for the weekend … to visit with her?"

"Yeah, went to visit Louiser and her family down the coast. Just one day." Pointing to a new picture on her mirror, she added, "They were at a medical conference. Paulo's niece went down to mind James for the first night's formal dinner and took this picture of the three of them before Martin and Louisa went out." She reached over and handed the photo to Margaret.

"My, James is quite an attractive little boy. You must be proud of him. Louisa looks to be in good health. I assume all is satisfactory with her pregnancy." She felt compelled to respond to the picture politely. It occurred to Margaret that Miriam was "nattering on" about her family and hoped that she didn't think Margaret was referring to her when she complained about her friend.

"Yep all's well in that department. It was good to see her and James. He's getting so big, three and a half you know, a bundle of energy and a sweet boy. Nothing like his father, 'Mister Grumpy'."

She returned the photo to Miriam, "Oh dear. Was your visit unpleasant?"

Miriam tilted her head and shrugged, "Not really. I took them to one of my favourite places, a lovely garden with a small natural history museum attached. Louisa and I were able to enjoy the flowers whilst Martin led James through the museum. That worked out well."

"Mm. That's nice."

Margaret rested her eyes while Miriam started to comb out her hair and trim a few loose ends. She really had no desire to hear every little detail of Miriam's visit with her daughter's family, and she was able to let her mind wander as Miriam used her blow dryer to style her hair. Martin did seem willing to spend time with his son. Was that something he wanted to do, or was it because Louisa insisted? From what she had seen, he didn't seem to be under her thumb; they each seemed to tend to James in equal parts when she watched them leave the pool for lunch, Martin insisting that Louisa wash him under the shower and then taking over to dress him and groom his hair whilst she rinsed herself off.

Of course, one never really knew what took place in another's marriage Her friends frequently remarked to her how lucky she was to have a man who adored her. And yes, even now he was still quite attentive when they were in public. He knew that other men admired her and she knew that his outward solicitousness communicated to them that she belonged to him. He was always helping her with her wrap, holding her chair for her at dinner, ensuring that her wine glass was always full and dancing with her whenever the occasion arose at the club or the periodic conference; and she enjoyed the attention.

In private it was a different matter; she might as well have been a picture on the wall or one of the dining room chairs for all the attention he paid her. Neglected, that is how she had felt for years once he abandoned her bed right after Martin's birth for the delights of other sweet young things. No one really knew the pain he caused her, and no one ever would. Her pride wouldn't let slip her façade of the proper society matron. And his proprietary attentiveness didn't keep the other men away. She had had her fair share of lovers over the years, but none of them aroused her senses the way Christopher had before Martin was born. More than once in the past week, images of Martin with Louisa had crossed her mind, his attentiveness that went beyond Christopher's public attentions to herself. And Louisa's second pregnancy made it obvious that he hadn't abandoned her bed after James' birth. Margaret refused to acknowledge the twinges of envy for her son's wife that started to plague her. She told herself that it was only wistfulness for the loss of her own husband's attentions perhaps, certainly not envy of Martin's attentions to Louisa.

Miriam had just about finished and was putting on the final touches with the curling iron as she continued with her story. "Paulo's brother Miguel and his wife Caterina have a little tasca just a few miles from the resort where Martin's conference was held; I usually take Louisa there when she visits and I knew they would enjoy seeing her and James, so I took them there for lunch. It's not the most impressive place from the outside, but the food is just to die for." She stopped working on Margaret for a moment to let out a loud cackle. "Well I though Martin was going to explode when he saw the building." She lowered the timbre of her voice in imitation of Martin, puffing out her chest, "'We can't eat here. It can't possibly meet minimum sanitary guidelines. Louisa, you can't risk food poisoning at this stage of your pregnancy.' On and on he went, but finally Louisa gave him a look and he quieted down and followed us in.

"As soon as we passed through the door, Caterina saw us and of course there was hugging and kissing and all sort of fussing over James and excitement over Louisa's pregnancy. Martin stood just inside the doorway all tense trying not to touch the walls or any of the tables or chairs, and he stayed glued to the spot as Miguel led us to a table. I've told them about him before so they understood, but it was embarrassing for Louisa. Still it was all I could do to keep from laughing at him. Louisa had to go over and speak to him, take him into the kitchen to see how clean it was, and that calmed him down a bit. He was still cautious, but once he tasted their cooking, he was converted. Honestly, I don't know how she has the patience to put up with him sometimes. "

"He certainly does sound like an extremely difficult man." Margaret felt compelled to observe.

"Well, we dropped him and James back at the resort for James' nap and then Louisa and I had a real visit, did some shopping, had a nice afternoon break with some wine and a few nibbles … well, I had some wine. Louisa had some fruit juice, and we had a good talk." Miriam leaned back, gave Margaret a hand mirror and swivelled the chair slowly around to let Margaret inspect the results of her labour. "So, what do you think? Are we finished?"

"Yes, very nice. Thank you." Margaret felt better than she had all week. Her trip to the sea had removed most of Miriam's styling from her previous visit and she hadn't been able to restore her coiffure to its proper lines since her return. It was good to know she once again looked her best; just knowing that helped her navigate the challenges of everyday life in the community.

Still she was troubled as she left the salon. Why would Martin behave in such a childish manner? Of course, she herself had seen some of these small "mom and pop tascas" and had been reluctant to patronize them. She could understand his hesitation, but he had been taught better. He had always behaved at the family holiday table once he was old enough for school; and on the rare occasions he refused to eat what was in front of him, he was punished accordingly so that he never made that mistake again. He had never been a congenial dinner companion, but he had been raised properly with the best of manners.

She slipped behind the wheel of her car and snorted to herself. No, Martin had never been what one would call congenial, surly was a better descriptor of his personality. "Mister Grumpy" was what Miriam had called him. Undoubtedly, she called him something more colourful away from the salon. He had always been disagreeable, with his face twisted into a scowl or a sneer. Why would she expect him to be any more affable now?

He had been difficult from the very beginning, a cranky baby, always fussing. Only Joan had been able to soothe him. She could remember Joan and Christopher having rows about how to care for him during the first few months after he was born. Christopher insisted that Martin should be left in a closed room to cry himself to sleep, that he not be coddled. Martin needed to learn to be self-sufficient and that was how you trained babies. Joan thought he should be held and cuddled. For the two months she had spent in their home after Martin was born, Joan refused to kowtow to what she declared to be Christopher's misguided childcare directives. She would coo and speak baby-talk with him when he was awake, tickling his tummy and making him smile and laugh. When he was tired, she would sing soft lullabies, rocking him in her arms, to help him sleep. Once Joan left, the nannies followed Christopher's instructions and left Martin alone in his crib, wailing. Eventually he did learn to comfort himself, staying quiet until he fell asleep. Margaret had never felt any desire to hold or comfort the child herself, and she came to realise that Christopher was right. Having a child who rarely cried certainly made for a more peaceful household.

Martin remained a quiet child, rarely speaking and offering only brief answers when questioned. He made few demands of them and he never initiated contact with them once he left for medical school. They hadn't spoken with their son since Martin had refused to follow his father into the Navy, to serve his country for the five years that all Ellingham men had done for generations. Christopher had never forgiven him, and because of that rift, he had made this terrible marriage. There was no chance of reconciliation now.

xXx

Miriam watched Margaret leave the salon and thought back to her visit with Louisa. The two of them did have a nice afternoon once they dropped Martin and James off at the hotel. It was good to have her all to herself. They wandered the streets of the local village and found a small wine bar that served delicious assorted tapas and snacks.

With Martin and James back at the hotel for James' nap, she was free to address some of the worries she had about her daughter and the life she led with this surly surgeon. At first, they shared "James stories", how intelligent and accomplished he had become, his funny antics and amusing expressions, all the things that women share with one another about the children they love. Eventually Miriam turned the conversation to a blunt discussion about Martin. Miriam asking her point blank how her marriage was, given that Martin was such a disagreeable man, and Louisa made her usual excuses. "He's not disagreeable with James and me."

"Perhaps, but what do you call his behaviour at Miguel and Caterina's place then?"

"He was just concerned for my health and the baby's, is all."

"It was embarrassing."

Louisa hung her head, "Well …. Yes … he can be that way sometimes. But he means well."

Miriam peered at her daughter, "Does he? He acts so hateful at times … and he always has a scowl on his face as if the world and everything in it was contemptible."

She paused for a moment and then asked the question that was foremost on her mind, "Louisa, you would tell me if he was ever abusive to you or James, if there was anything wrong, wouldn't you?"

Louisa was taken aback, "Mum, how can you ask that? Martin is a kind and gentle, caring man."

" _Yeah, right._ " She thought to herself. "Can't say I've seen any sign of that on this trip."

"Okay, he does have a temper, but his bark is much worse than his bite. In fact, he doesn't have a bite. He would never consciously hurt anyone, least of all James or me. He cares for us in more ways than I could ever tell you."

Louisa hadn't convinced her and Miriam gave her a sceptical look. "Words can hurt too."

"Okay, I will admit he is gruff sometimes … rude actually … often. And he can be insensitive. Sometimes he will say something that could be taken as an insult, but he doesn't intend it to be hurtful. I will admit it does bother me sometimes. But I don't think he can change, and I've learned to let it go most of the time. He's just being Martin."

Miriam tilted her head and raised her eyebrows in disbelief, then turned to signal the waiter for another glass of wine.

Louisa raised her shoulders in a sigh, "He warned me before he asked me to marry him that he was a difficult man, so I knew what I was getting into. But believe me Mum, underneath that gruff exterior, he is a good man, a very good man, and I do love him …. And he loves me."

'If you're sure."

"I am."

"I just don't know how you put up with him is all."

Miriam remembered the look in Louisa's eyes and the sly grin on her face as she replied, "He does have many redeeming qualities you know."

"I guess he must" is all she could think to reply, but she wasn't entirely convinced. You never stop worrying about your kids, that's for sure.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Louisa was jolted awake, gasping, as a sudden sharp pain radiated through her body. She suppressed the groan that rose in her throat and she braced herself against the surprising strength of the contraction. Soon enough her muscles relaxed and she looked at the clock, 3:45. Was her labour beginning or was this just another one of the Braxton-Hicks contractions that had become more frequent in the past week? She would know soon enough.

She turned her head to gaze at her husband who was sleeping soundly on his back as was his habit, and she felt a surge of love come over her. She examined the planes of his face, the strength of his nose, his full lips, oh how she loved those lips, his close-cropped hair and even his extraordinary ears. How lucky she was to have found him. She reached out to touch his arm lightly,not to wake him, but to feel the life force in him, and she saw a faint smile cross his face. His was never an effusive smile or grin, rarely more than an upward curve of his lips, but what made it so special was the expression in his eyes. His eyes radiated such love it warmed her through, and she could imagine it now, the smile that she loved, the smile he gave James at night after story time, the smile he gave her when he greeted her at the end of the day, and the smile she expected to see when he first held this child about to enter the world.

Another contraction overcame her and she pulled back her hand to hold her side in an effort to contain it; the clock read 3:52. Seven minutes from the last one; yes, her time had come. She looked down at her swollen belly and whispered, "Soon my little one, soon you will be in my arms, in your daddy's arms and we will love you just as we love James." She turned over to her side and continued to gaze at Martin. There was no need to wake him yet. He needed his sleep; they would have a full day ahead of them.

They really were fortunate to have found each other. If not for Holly's accident that day, Martin would never have seen her in A&E, he never would have had that dream, he never would have asked her out to dinner and they never would have created either James or this new baby. Yes, the stars were aligned in their favor that day.

The life they had created together was amazing and she reflected on it as she waited for her labour to progress. They had each sacrificed to be together. He had cut back on the hours he devoted to his work to spend time with her and their child, and he sacrificed his peaceful orderly bachelor life for the chaos their family frequently generated.

There were those that would say she had given up much more to be with him. She had left her beloved village in the most beautiful place in the country and sacrificed her career, giving up her position as head teacher to take a part-time maths instructor position in a small London girls' school. They would say she could influence so many more lives had she continued to manage a village school; perhaps she would have gone on to administer all Cornish state schools. Her potential was limitless. On the other hand, she would tell them that she gained so much more, the husband who adored her and the family she had always wanted. In addition, she still had influence over the girls she saw in her classes each term; and more importantly, she had her own children to raise to be responsible members of society.

The smile that had crossed Martin's face was still there, softening the lines of his face so that the kind gentle man that she knew shone through. If only he would let the rest of the world see him for who he truly was. Even her own mother harboured reservations about his nature; how could she have asked whether he was abusive to her or James. Louisa thought back to their visit less than two months ago in Portugal, and how she had to defend Martin to her mother. Even now, she wasn't entirely certain that her mother was convinced.

Another contraction hit and she pulled in her breath at the strength of it. 3:59 am …. still early times; no need to wake Martin just yet. That was one of the things she had learned about him in the years they had been together. He needed a good night's sleep; without it, he could be as irritable and fractious as a young child in need of a nap. She had learned how to deal with this side of him with a simple look to let him know when he had crossed the line, but she knew that she wouldn't be up to managing his impatience today. No, today she would need to focus her energy elsewhere; perhaps she should remind him before they left for hospital how she needed him to be her husband today, not her medical consultant. Best to let him sleep as long as possible.

He was infamous for his temper in hospital, intolerant of even the slightest failure to provide the best care for patients. Of course, his perfectionism and attention to detail were part of the reason he had been selected to lead his department. His blunt tongue was one of the reasons he was so successful, and one of the reasons that the surgeons he trained were in such high demand at hospitals across the country. He never hesitated to point out why the misdiagnosis of an "idiot" or an "imbecile" would result in the death of a patient. Registrars knew they had to study long and hard if they wished to avoid his wrath. Would any of them understand that his tendency to "tell it like it is", to never sugar coat his opinion was one of the reasons she loved him. She knew he never tried to deceive her; she always knew where he stood when they had a disagreement, and she had learned to be just as forthright as he. It helped to find a compromise when they both put all their cards on the table, so to speak.

She rolled onto her back as another wave hit and she tried to relax and control her breathing. That contraction seemed to be stronger than the ones before it. 4:05, only six minutes since the last one. There was still time. She was glad that Margery, their current nanny, had agreed to spend nights in their guest bedroom a week ago so that she could care for James if they had to leave for hospital in the middle of the night. They just might have to slip out in an hour or two – well before the time they usually started the day.

Her thoughts wandered as she lay there, trying to find a comfortable position whilst waiting for her body to do its work. She thought back to their trip to Portugal just a month or so ago. That trip, along with other trips they had taken over the years, was one of the perks of her marriage to Martin. His medical conferences were sometimes in holiday locations, and she would join him if they coincided with a term break or a holiday weekend. True the resort in Portugal wasn't all that exotic to her since she visited her mother nearby every winter, but her mother's small home in the foot hills was quite Spartan compared to the posh accommodations at the resort. And because Martin was a featured speaker at the conference, they had a deluxe suite with plenty of space for James. She had enjoyed herself tremendously.

Martin would be reluctant to admit it, but she was certain that he was proud to have her and James with him to broadcast to the world that he had been able to win and keep a beautiful wife, a wife who was pregnant with their second child. She had made an effort to look her best, and he had noticed, telling her more than once how beautiful she looked. He still had difficulty expressing his love out loud. She knew he loved her from the look in his eyes every evening when he returned home and by the way he cared for her. So, to hear him express his admiration several days in a row was truly remarkable. She smiled to herself as she remembered.

Another contraction … 4:11 … six minutes from the last one. She may have to wake Martin if the next one comes soon. She remembered back to her labour with James, how bellicose Martin had been with the midwife and the floor sister when he came and found her alone in the room. She had seen him rude upon occasion in their personal life, but had never seen him at his tyrannical worst in hospital. Again, she hoped he would not repeat that behaviour today. She loved him dearly and found his blunt way with the truth admirable, but this aspect of his personality could still trouble her. His behaviour in hospital was really none of her business, and if it didn't bother the hospital trustees, then it was of no consequence to her. He only wanted the best for his patients and tyranny was how he made sure that the hospital staff gave his patients their best.

It was when she observed his rude or dismissive behaviour towards others when they were out and about that she cringed. Early on in their marriage, she would give him "the look", the one that told him his behaviour was unacceptable. But when she tried to explain the problem, he usually dismissed her concerns, and she had stopped trying to reform him. She had learned to look the other way, but it still upset her. She thought about the doctor that wanted to ask him a question while the three of them were at lunch one day at the conference. Did he really have to say "go away"? He didn't need to be so gruff.

And the day they spent with her mother. They only had one day with her and Martin could barely be civil, never once breaking his scowl and frequently rolling his eyes at one of her mother's irreverent remarks. He had embarrassed her at Miguel and Caterina's tasca, refusing to enter their café until she gave him "the look". She had to take him aside and assure him firstly, that they were her friends and secondly, that they maintained the highest hygiene standards despite the outward appearance of the building. When they agreed to take him into the kitchen to show how they stored and prepared the food, he had relaxed and was even able to complement them on the meal they had prepared, telling them that it was "quite satisfactory". In hindsight she realised that she should have prepared him for their tasca and explained that it was quite hygienic despite the outward appearance. But why should she have to do that? Couldn't he just trust her judgement, that she wouldn't expose them to pathogens?

No wonder her mum had questioned his behaviour. Didn't she tell her mother that he had many other redeeming qualities? She sighed knowing that this morning was not the time to be dwelling on his flaws. And he did have many, many redeeming qualities. She rolled back over to face him and rubbed his shoulder with her cheek, inhaling his scent. Yes, she did love him, warts and all.

With the next contraction at 4:16, she decided it was time to prepare to leave. With only five minutes between contractions, labour could drag on for several more hours or it could progress quickly. Best to leave for hospital soon. She brushed his cheek gently with her fingers. He sighed but didn't open his eyes. "Martin," she murmured and tugged gently on his ear.

He sighed again but responded to her touch with a smile, "Mmm…"

"Martin. It's time".

He rolled over to face her and lightly stroked her arm, "What?" He was still groggy.

"Martin, it's time to go."

He opened his eyes wide now, fully awake with the realization of what she was trying to tell him. "Now?"

"Yes, now."

"Right." He threw the duvet back and slid out of the bed and headed to the toilet, then turned right back around. "Have your waters broken? How far apart are the contractions? Do we need to leave immediately?"

"No, but they could break at any time now. Five minutes between contractions. Oo-oo-oo." She stopped talking in order to concentrate while another wave rose, peaked and then eased.

Martin stood next to her and went into doctor mode, placing his palm against her belly to try to assess the strength of her contraction, his eyes on the minute hand of his watch. When it had stopped, he said, "We need to hurry if we want to arrive at hospital before you deliver."

Louisa rolled over and tried to shift her legs over the edge of the bed, "I think I have time to dress. I'd like to change out of my pyjamas. My bag is packed and ready to go. And we need to let Margery know we are leaving."

"Let me help you up." He leaned over and gently lifted her up to a sitting position. "What can I do to help?" He stood back, tilting his head downward, looking her over and asked, "Do you really need to change? No one is about at this time of the morning to see you, and you will be put in a medical gown as soon as we arrive."

She ran her fingers through her hair, "I don't know Martin. Maybe you are right."

"Of course I am."

"I'll need my coat." She braced herself on the edge of the bed and shooed him away, rattling off a series of instructions as he walked the short distance to their bathroom, "Why don't you go use the toilet and get dressed. Then come and help me change … or get into my coat. I'd like to brush my teeth as well. I suppose we should call a taxi. I really think it will be a few hours yet."

A few weeks ago, they had argued about whether she should use an ambulance or not and she had convinced him that a taxi would be sufficient to their needs. If the labour progressed quickly, she might need an ambulance, but she felt it would be another several hours before she would actually deliver.

He had nearly reached the lavatory when she remembered, "And don't forget to tell Margery that we are leaving."

He turned around with a confused look on his face, "Margery?"

"James' nanny? Remember? She is in the guest room?"

"Right."

Within less than 15 minutes they were in the taxi on their way. It was a short five-minute ride this early in the morning with little traffic about, but riding in the taxi to hospital was extremely uncomfortable as it was nearly impossible to focus her relaxation techniques while the cab bounced over the road. Martin bellowing at the driver to avoid potholes and take the corners more slowly didn't help her composure, but they finally arrived, where the staff hustled her into a private labour room. Robert was born at 8:36 at 21 inches and 8lbs 6 oz., a perfect healthy baby boy with all his fingers and toes and a shock of blond hair. Martin took a few pictures on his phone, and by 11:30, he had sent messages conveying the happy news along with a few pictures to Joan, Ruth and Miriam.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Joan raised her glass in a toast to her sister, "Here's to a wonderful two months, getting to know my new grandson and spending time with you, my dear Ruth."

Whilst Joan was in London, the two sisters met for brunch each Sunday at Ruth's favourite restaurant. They would discuss the events of the past week, reminisce about their childhood, share memories of their mother and father, whatever crossed their minds. Afterwards, the two would visit one of the local museums or take in a matinee showing of one of the local theatre productions. They had done the same when James was born and it worked out well. Joan felt that it also gave Martin and his family some quiet time to bond without her in the house and it gave her time to spend with Ruth and to enjoy a few of the cultural attractions that London had to offer.

Ruth raised her glass as well and responded with a wry "Yes." Joan was on her third glass of wine this afternoon and was becoming sentimental. "It's been lovely reconnecting with you as well." She took a small sip and asked, "You're heading back to Cornwall this week?"

"Wednesday morning. I'm booked on the 10:03 out of Paddington."

"Would you like me to come see you off?"

"I should be able to manage. I just have the two bags and, with their sturdy wheels, they are both easy to manoeuvre once I arrive at the station."

Joan wiped a tear from her eye, "Oh I will miss all of you, especially the boys. Robert is starting to talk and just this week he has started smiling."

"Talking? Really Joan, I find that hard to believe." Ruth tucked her head and gave her sister a sceptical look.

"You know what I mean, screwing up his little mouth and making sweet little sounds, 'oohs and aahs'." She shrugged her shoulders and grinned, "He's such a poppet."

Ruth smiled at her sister indulgently as Joan continued, "But it's time. The farm is calling me home. Geoff and Sally tell me they have been harvesting the greens for several weeks now, and the sheep need shearing. I've contacted the shearers to come in the week after next to do the job."

Joan had hired the young couple, Geoff and Sally Teague to tend the farm whilst she was in London. They were a young couple from the village who had studied agriculture at university, and they had returned to Port Isaac in hopes of finding work on one of the farms in the area. She had hired them to help with the animals at the beginning of the year and they had done some of the early tilling for the vegetable patch. She had arranged for them to move onto the farm whilst she was away in London in order to care for her animals and tend her vegetable garden. They had been quick learners and she was satisfied they would keep the farm working productively whilst she was gone. They phoned her every other day with an update and she felt confident that all was well, but it was time for her to return, despite her wish to stay with Martin and his family.

"I hate to leave, but at least Louisa will be down for the summer holidays with James and Robert. Only two months away." She sipped the last of her wine and then added, "You should come down as well … maybe for James' fourth birthday?"

Ruth stared out the window thinking about her nephew and how his life had changed these past several years. "I'll consider it. How are Martin and Louisa holding up these days?"

She asked Joan this question every Sunday when they met for an early brunch. Ruth had been sceptical about their marriage from the start, and it was as if she hoped, or perhaps feared, they would finally realise they were unsuited and separate. The last two months had been full for Joan, mostly with happy family time, and she responded to Ruth's question as she always did, "They seem to be doing well."

She dabbled at the remains of her meal, spearing the last asparagus stalk with her fork. "It seems so long ago that you met me at the station and the taxi dropped us off at Martin's house."

"Yes," Ruth chuckled at the memory, "and James greeted us exuberantly, 'Gammy, Graunty, we have a new baby in our house.' He was so excited."

"That he was," Joan agreed. S _he had packed her bags and made arrangements for care of the farm several weeks before Martin finally called with news of Robert's birth. She could still remember his call, "Aunty Joan, the baby arrived earlier this morning at 8:36. He weighed 8 pounds 6 ounces and is 21 inches long. He is perfectly healthy. Do you have your mobile handy? I will forward some pictures to you."_

" _Oh Marty, another little boy. How exciting. Have you given him a name yet?"_

" _Yes, Robert Martin. Robert after Louisa's father, and Martin after … well … mmm"_

" _Robert Martin Ellingham. That's a lovely name." Joan began to ramble "I remember Louisa's father, a fine man. Such a shame when the sea took him. It was so hard on Miriam and the children."_

" _Aunty Joan, I must ring off. I still need to notify Ruth and Miriam."_

' _Yes, yes. I will plan to come down tomorrow as planned … that is, if it's still convenient." Suddenly she remembered to ask, "Louisa? How is Louisa? Any problems with her labour? Will she be able to go home soon?"_

" _Yes. Louisa is doing well, and she plans to come home this afternoon despite my advice to remain in hospital for observation overnight. I will care for her tonight and tomorrow. After that, our nanny will care for James in the morning as is usual when he isn't at school, and I have hired a nurse for the next two weeks to assist Louisa during the day when I can't be home. But we will welcome your assistance if it's no bother."_

" _Of course it's no bother! You know I can't wait to see him."_

" _Well, let's cut this short. I'll send you the photos and you can see him momentarily. Let me know when your train will arrive tomorrow."_

" _Yes, yes. I'll let you" …_ Click! _Martin cut her off, and she shook her head. "When will that boy learn some manners? Ah well … best call the train and buy my ticket."_

 _Martin and Louisa had given her a beautiful and functional set of luggage just before James was born. The wheels were sturdy and handled beautifully on all surfaces. Still, once she arrived at Paddington station, she had to heave her bags off the luggage rack, and then struggle to exit the train. "Where are the porters when you really need them?" she muttered as she wrestled her bags down the steps. She took a deep breath as she reached the platform, straightening her shoulders whilst she grabbed the handle of each bag and started to walk towards the gate, all the while searching for Martin's head above the crowds. There was no sign of him anywhere, when she heard the high-pitched gravelly voice of her sister calling out, "Joan, Joan."_

 _There, off to the side, just outside the gate stood Ruth waving frantically. Joan nodded her head in recognition and shouted out, "Ruth!"_

 _As she hurried over to give her sister a quick awkward embrace, she cried, 'I was expecting Martin."_

 _Ruth rolled her eyes, "Yes, well. He's busy, and I told him I had nothing better to do, so here I am. Let's find a taxi and head on over to introduce ourselves to the newest Ellingham."_

Joan continued, smiling at the memory, "And Martin … so proud when he brought Robert down to meet us. He had that little grin that he gets on his face when he is happy."

"Yes, I remember." Ruth accepted that they were going to trip down memory lane, at least for a few more moments this morning, and since they weren't going anywhere soon, she reached for one of the restaurant's delicious cinnamon buns. "It is good to see him so happy. He was pretty miserable for so many years. Having a family has done him a world of good."

 _Martin was out shopping for the evening meal when they arrived at his home, and the nurse answered the door. Before they could introduce themselves to the nurse, James came running into the foyer shouting, "Gammy, Gammy." Joan put down her bags and scooped him up into her arms as he cried, "Gammy, I have a new baby brother. Do you want to come see him?"_

 _He turned to speak to Ruth as well, "Graunty, his name is Robert and he is very little. Mummy says he looks just like I did when I was new."_

 _Joan chuckled, "Well James, Graunty and I would both love to see him … if he isn't asleep?" She tilted her head and, raising her eyebrows, looked at the nurse, who smiled back and replied, "He is due for a feed any minute now. Why don't you leave your bags here and visit with James for a few minutes until he is awake?"_

 _She continued speaking as she led them into the lounge, "By the way, my name is Sondra. Mr. Ellingham had to step out for a moment, but he did tell me to expect you. He should be back any minute now. Mrs. Ellingham is resting, but I will let her know you have arrived."_

 _Just then they heard the baby crying. "Please excuse me," Sondra trilled as she trotted up the stairs._

 _At the same time, the front door opened and Martin entered burdened down with several bags of groceries. Joan rushed over to help carry the groceries into the kitchen._

 _Martin tipped his head in frustration toward the stairs, "Why is the baby crying? Where is the nurse?" He dropped the bags he was carrying and rushed to the stairs, obviously upset that no one was tending to Robert._

" _Martin, stop._ " Joan admonished him. " _Robert just started crying and the nurse is upstairs with him now." Sure enough, the baby's fussing stopped. "I believe she has everything in hand. Why don't you sit down and let me fix you a cup of tea? Hmmm?"_

' _Yes. Good." He sat for a moment and then jumped up, "I'll just go check on Louisa."_

 _He reappeared a few minutes later, much calmer. "Louisa is feeding the baby. I told her you had arrived and she is anxious to greet you. I will help her bring Robert down in a few minutes when she is finished nursing him."_

" _There's no hurry Marty. I'm not going anywhere soon, and Ruth is here as well. Now, sit down and enjoy your tea." Joan poured the tea into the cup she had set out for him._

" _Mmm … I think I'll have an espresso instead. Why don't you offer the tea to Ruth?"_

 _Ruth and James had moved into the kitchen when they saw Martin run up the stairs. "I'd love a cuppa Joan." Ruth reached over and slid the cup across the table. "Do you have any milk?"_

 _Martin went to the counter to prepare his espresso whilst James entertained Joan and Ruth, telling them all about his accomplishments at school. Martin busied himself sorting and putting the groceries away. Joan observed that he seemed fidgety, pulling pots out of the cupboard and putting them back again. She looked over at Ruth and raised an eyebrow. Ruth nodded her head and spoke up, "Perhaps you should go check on Louisa, Martin. She might need help making herself presentable after feeding the baby."_

" _Yes. Right." He was off in a flash._

 _Shortly after, they could hear halting steps on the stairs. "Be careful Louisa. I don't want you to slip and hurt yourself. Joan and Ruth could have come upstairs to visit."_

" _Honestly Martin, I'm fine. I need to get out of that room, and the sooner I get moving, the faster I will recover."_

" _Mmm …. Yes."_

 _At the sound of his mother's voice, James pushed away from the table and the biscuits he was eating and ran to see her with Joan and Ruth not far behind him. Martin had Robert tucked into the crook of his arm whist steadying Louisa with his other. He handed Robert to Joan as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs and then escorted Louisa to a chair in the lounge. "I'll just go and bring you a cup of tea."_

" _Martin, that's not necessary. I'm fine."_

" _You need to keep up your fluid intake. I'll just prepare it for when you are thirsty." He left for the kitchen and Louisa smiled sheepishly and shook her head, rolling her eyes as he left._

 _Ruth leaned over and whispered, "Let him coddle you dear. It won't last long and it makes him feel useful."_

 _Louisa responded with a wan smile, "I suppose you're right."_

" _Of course I am."_

 _Joan had settled onto the sofa and had already started cooing at Robert with James glued firmly to her side. "He does look just like you did, James, when you were a baby. And now you're all grown up, a big brother."_

 _James grinned from ear to ear and reached over to grab the baby from Joan's arms, "Can I hold him?"_

 _Louisa answered James, "Why don't you let Gammy hold him a little longer since she just arrived?"_

" _Okay." James gazed longingly at the baby and then rose and went to sit next to his mother, and Ruth scooted over to take his place next to Joan to examine the baby close up._

 _Martin returned with Louisa's tea and then stood behind her chair, surveying the scene, somewhat flustered, but proud nonetheless with that tentative smile that occasionally crossed his face when he was particularly happy. Still he was restless with so much activity in his home and he soon leaned over Louisa, murmuring, "I'll go start the dinner preparations."_

Joan reached for the last of the cinnamon buns and buttered it liberally, continuing the conversation, "They do seem to be a happy little family, although I still worry about Marty. He works too hard, so much responsibility at hospital and he insists on helping out with the night time feeds. He looks exhausted."

Ruth ticked her head to the side, shrugging her shoulders, "That really shouldn't be a problem given his early surgical training, all those long nights as a registrar. I'm sure he is able to cope, and the night time feeds will ease off eventually."

"Still," Joan replied. "He's not a young man any more. But you are right. Already Robert is sleeping five hours at a stretch. It will get better." Joan lifted her glass and swirled the last of her wine, gazing longingly at her glass, "I suppose I shouldn't have another glass of wine, but it is awfully good."

"No," Ruth raised her eyebrows and shook her finger at Joan, "No more wine for you. We will be leaving soon, and I don't want to have to carry you out!"

"I'm perfectly fine." Joan retorted, tossing her head defiantly.

Ruth lowered her head and raised her eyebrows, "I'm sure you are." Then she changed the subject, "Has Robert settled down after that bad bout of colic he had a few weeks ago?"

"He seems to have moved past that now. He's been fine for the past week. I watched him and James last night whilst Martin and Louisa went out to dinner, and he was good as gold, grinning and waving his little arms whilst we ate our dinner."

"That's good. I've heard that colicky babies can be inconsolable. I can't imagine Martin coping with that well. He's always liked his life quiet and orderly."

Joan laughed, "No. Robert frequently tried his patience. I remember one evening Louisa was upstairs helping James prepare for bed and Martin was pacing the floor with Robert slung over his shoulder trying to pacify him when his mobile rang calling him back to hospital. He practically tossed the baby into my arms as he flew down the stairs and out the door. Louisa watched him go from the upstairs landing as she pulled James' pyjamas on, 'Pity those poor registrars and nurses who have to deal with him tonight. He will be a bear. Better them than me.'"

Ruth cocked an eyebrow, "He does have a reputation… deserved, I am sure. I can't tell you how many people ask me when I first meet them, 'Are you related to Mr. Ellingham?'"

"I usually answer before they finish the question, 'Yes, he is my nephew.' That always takes them by surprise."

She leaned across the table to add, "They are almost always curious, and they have to ask, 'You know his reputation then?' to which I reply, 'Yes … surliest surgeon on staff.'"

"They will lean in and inquire, always in a confidential tone, 'Is he always like that?' They want to know."

Ruth enjoyed telling this story, lowering her voice an octave and then returning to her regular pitch as she related her encounters. "I don't know what they expect me to say …. Yes, he's horrible to everyone?"

What do you say?"

"Sometimes I just give them a look or say 'Nooo …', and sometimes I'm tempted to say, 'Oh no. He's a sweetheart at home.'"

Joan chuckled, "Well he can be a sweetheart, but he can also be rude and brusque, even to me and Louisa, but he doesn't mean to be ugly."

"No. I thought Louisa might be able to soften his edges, but it hasn't turned out that way."

"Although … actually … he is quite gentle and attentive at home."

"I suppose he is. He would have to be, wouldn't he?" Ruth glanced at her watch and signalled to the waiter for the check. "Time for us to go. Ready to see the new exhibit at the Tate?"

"I suppose." Joan replied with little enthusiasm. Ruth was always trying to broaden her taste in art. Perhaps it would take this afternoon, but Joan wasn't optimistic.

That night, as she readied herself for bed, she thought about her conversation with Ruth. Her two months spent in London with Martin's family had been beneficial for the family, but also for her. After Phil died, she had thought she would spend the rest of her life alone. True she had close friends in her small village, friends with whom she celebrated holidays and birthdays; and as much as she cared for them, it wasn't the same as a family who loved and cared for her. Before Martin married, he and Ruth were off in London, and she rarely spent any time with either of them, a few phone calls at Christmas and her birthday, but that was all. Christopher wasn't worth a moment's thought, gone to Portugal and good riddance. But now that Martin and Louisa had wed, she suddenly had a family who doted on her and she loved every minute. And grandchildren … who would have though a tough old gal like herself would be blessed with grandchildren. She hugged herself savouring her good fortune. She would have to snuggle and spoil them rotten for the next two days, building up memories to last until the summer school term when they would join her in Portwenn.

When it came time to return home, Martin rode with her in the taxi to the station. She had discouraged him from accompanying her, but he was insistent, "I want to make sure you don't have any problems manoeuvring through the station. It's the least I can do for all the help you have given us."

"Very well. If you're sure you have the time." She could hear Ruth's voice in her head, "Let him coddle you. It won't last forever". Ruth had given Louisa that advice, and Joan decided it applied to her as well. _"I will let him coddle me. I want him to feel needed."_ She had to admit that his help with her bags made the trip to the station easier, especially when he found a porter to help carry her bags to her train car. How he managed that was something of a miracle, or more likely one of the advantages of being a tall distinguished looking man with an air of authority. Whatever it was, she didn't hesitate to embarrass him by giving him a big hug and kiss on his cheek as she bade him good-bye with a tear slipping down her own cheek.

She settled into her seat and opened her tote bag. She had taken many pictures during her two months with the family and she had printed the best of them to place into an album during the long train ride home. There were several photos from the day of her arrival. The first photo was of a beaming James sitting on the sofa with his arms wrapped tightly around Robert. He was determined to prove to his mother, who was hovering nearby, that he could safely hold his brother. Then there were the photos of Joan holding Robert with James sitting next to her, then one of Ruth in the same position, and finally one of Martin with Louisa, James and Robert. It was the only one she had with all four of them, and it was her favourite. She placed it on the first page of her album and started to sort through the many other photos she had taken throughout her visit.

By the time the nurse had left them for her next assignment, life in the Ellingham household had settled into a routine. Martin rose early and left for hospital between 6 and 7:30 am depending on whether he had early morning procedures scheduled. When James awoke around 6:30, he ran into his parent's room and climbed into their bed to cuddle with his mother for a few minutes whilst she fed Robert. Martin would prepare breakfast on the days he didn't have procedures and help Louisa prepare Robert and James for their day. Joan took over breakfast duties on the days he left early, watching Robert whilst Louisa dressed James for school.

James' nanny tended to him during the weekday mornings, playing with him on the days when he had no school and walking him to his school on the days he did. For the first two weeks the nurse tended to Robert, changing his nappies and watching him if Louisa needed to rest. She also took care of the washing; goodness knows there were bundles of laundry to be done with a new-born.

Joan found herself running errands during those mornings, to the grocery or the chemist, the cleaners or the bakery, whatever was needed. If the weather was fine, Louisa would join her and they might take a picnic lunch to enjoy in the park down the street from their home. In the afternoon, she would watch James as he played with his toys or blocks, and she would read to him from his favourite books. On pleasant days, she would take him to the local playground, along with Robert in his pushchair. The nurse would often join her on these outings, giving Louisa a quiet house to enjoy a long nap since she never had a full nights' sleep. Later after the nurse had left, Louisa would join them, joyfully engaging with James on the play equipment whilst Joan played with Robert. Although she was up several times each night, Louisa was feeling much better. There were many photos of James playing in the park and a few of Louisa holding Robert on her lap as she gently swayed on the swings. There was one taken just a week before she left where Robert had a big toothless grin on his face as his adoring mother gazed down at him, and another of Joan herself holding Robert with James sitting at her side. She decided that she needed to save those for a frame to place at her bedside.

In the evenings, Martin usually arrived home by 6pm, and the early evening was devoted to dinner with the family and bath time for James. Martin usually read James a bedtime story and had begun to include Robert if he was awake, with the adage, "It's never too early to instil a love of books in a young child." After James was in bed, he might spend an hour in his study reviewing his notes for the next day, or he might enjoy a quiet hour in the lounge sharing a cup of tea and gentle conversation before the entire family retired at 9:30.

Weekends were much more relaxed. Martin still rose early, but did not leave for rounds until 8:30 am, after he had prepared a big nutritious breakfast for them all. He was rarely gone more than an hour and the rest of the day was family time, cooking with Louisa, taking the boys to the park or to one of the local museums. Of course, Joan usually spent Sundays with Ruth, and Ruth joined the family for dinner twice on Saturday evenings.

Three weeks or so after Robert's birth, Martin approached her one evening as they were doing the washing up after supper, "Aunty Joan … umm." He had a tea towel in his hands that he was nervously folding and unfolding. "I was wondering if you could watch the children for a few hours tomorrow evening?"

"Of course I can."

"I'd like to take Louisa out for dinner. We wouldn't be more than two hours."

"That's an excellent idea. I'm sure she will enjoy going out."

He continued to fiddle with the tea towel, adding, "And we will have our mobiles if any emergency should arise."

"Yes Martin. I'm sure I can handle the boys for a few hours by myself. Have you asked Louisa if she wants to go?"

"I wanted to check with you first. I'll mention it to her tonight before we go to bed."

"Good."

That night out did them both a world of good. Louisa was glowing when they returned, even as she asked Joan about her evening and the boys. Martin took her coat to the cupboard and when he returned to the lounge, Louisa took his hand and led him to the sofa where she snuggled up next to him. Joan watched them with amusement. Martin was obviously uncomfortable with such open affection in front of Joan, and he slid a few inches over on the couch with a disapproving look. Louisa wasn't to be discouraged and she just nestled further into his side until he was no longer able to move away. Happily settled next to him, she began to describe their meal to Joan with Martin adding a comment here and there as he became more comfortable. The evening was such a success that they went out twice more during Joan's visit. It was obvious to Joan that Martin had learned a thing or two about keeping his wife happy. And from the look on his face those evenings and the following mornings, it was apparent that Louisa had learned a few things about keeping her husband happy. Yes, her assurances to Ruth that the two were doing just fine were right on.

Unfortunately, Robert developed colic week or so after their first dinner date. James had never suffered with colic and it was a challenge for all of them to try to comfort Robert in the evening when he was screaming with pain. Louisa was distraught, but Martin would console her by assuring her that sometimes babies just cry. His crying seemed to start shortly after Martin arrived home each evening, right as they were taking their evening meal. Joan knew it was good that she was there to help them through that trying time. It took the three of them to attend to James, prepare dinner and try to sooth Robert. Martin seemed to have the most luck. He'd sling Robert over his shoulder and carry him around the house, patting his back, or he would hold him tummy down and rub his back. That would calm him for a while, but then he would start again. He'd wear himself out by the time James was ready for bed and they would all go to bed early. Fortunately, that phase lasted only three weeks. Both Martin and Louisa had researched the condition and discovered that some babies suffer for a month or longer, so they felt fortunate that his colic resolved itself so quickly.

Joan continued to slip her photos into the album as the train rumbled through the countryside. She took a short break to eat the sandwich she had brought and to enjoy a cup of hot tea from the buffet bar, but by the time the train pulled into Bodmin Parkway station, she had completed her album, had stowed it away in her bag and was ready to disembark. Geoff was waiting for her to exit the train and rushed over to take her bags to the truck. They had a good ride back to the farm with Joan describing her visit and Geoff updating her on the status of the farm. With each turn on the road, old familiar places sprang into view, heightening her desire to be home. Soon enough, they turned off the A39 in Wadebridge and were traveling past the rolling farms of so many of her friends on the way to the coast, to her own farm. Moments later they turned onto the gravel drive leading to the yard. Home … she was home. Yes, she would miss Martin and his family, but their life was in London. Her life was here on the farm, and she was glad to be home.

 **Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in posting this new chapter. It's been a long month with many agreeable holiday activities interfering with more creative activities. I hope you enjoy this chapter.  
** **Happy New Year and best wishes to all in our Doc Martin Fan Fiction universe for a good 2019.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The weeks passed and Margaret's life once again was filled with shopping trips, card games, afternoon "tea" with her friends, the usual swirl of parties at the club, and other social activities. All thoughts of Martin and his family slipped her mind, except when Miriam mentioned them, which was not very often, as there were other more interesting tidbits of gossip to share with her clients. That is until late March when she pulled out an envelope with several pictures of the new baby. They had arrived by post just that morning. "Another boy … just look at him, will you. Isn't he beautiful?"

Margaret's shoulders rose with the sigh she was unable to conceal, "Yes, he is a lovely baby. What are they calling him?"

"Robert Martin. Robert after Louisa's father, not that he takes after my Robby. He had dark hair and this little one is as blond as he can be, takes after his Daddy, just like James."

Margaret peered more closely at the pictures, "Yes I suppose he does."

She laid the photos carefully on the table in front of her, not wanting to dwell on them further. She had told herself that she wasn't interested in these children; they were to be nothing to her. She had thought about the entire situation shortly after her adventure down the coast and realised that she had been carried away with the idea of grandchildren. All her friends had grandchildren and she had felt left out; but as she contemplated it, she knew she wasn't cut out to be a grandmother, no more than she was cut out to be a mother. She supposed it would be gratifying to have pictures to share with her friends as they did with theirs; in fact, it would be extremely satisfying to feel part of their special club instead of the outsider she frequently felt nowadays. But honesty compelled her to admit that she wouldn't really want to spend time with the children, and she wasn't interested in reconnecting with Martin … too much water under that bridge by now. She remembered that she had never really considered the possibility of grandchildren in her life until her friends started obsessing over theirs. And, even if she and Chris had reconciled with Martin and he had presented her with the little darlings, she wouldn't know what to do with them. No, she would treat Miriam's grandchildren as she did those of all her friends. Good manners required her to complement these children, but no more than that.

She supposed good manners also required one more comment, "Mother and baby are both healthy?"

"Yeah. Robert was born in the morning and Martin took them home that afternoon, but he's hired a nurse for the first two weeks to help Louisa get back on her feet. He may be a grumpy old sod, but she's lucky to have him. I remember when I came home with Louisa. Alan, my oldest was three years old and had stopped taking naps. Boy those first few months were killers. Wouldn't want to go through that again. 'Course Louisa has a nanny too who helps out in the mornings, takes James to preschool and will help with the baby once the nurse has gone. "

Miriam concentrated on her work for a few minutes and then blurted out, "Bloody lucky she is."

Margaret raised her eyebrows and smiled, "Yes."

"And Joan has come down as well to help when the nurse leaves."

"Joan? Oh yes, Martin's aunt from Cornwall …. Seems they will have a full house."

Margaret thought back to Martin's birth. Christopher had hired a nurse for her just as Martin had for Louisa. Such an officious little woman as Margaret recalled, insisting that she stay in bed and rest the first week home, bringing Martin in to her for feeds three times a day. And then Joan had come over from Cornwall to help out, just as she was doing now. She completely took over Martin's care after the nurse left; Margaret didn't feel up to it and Joan seemed happy to help. Joan was always happy to help, she thought derisively, always willing to have Martin down at the farm whenever she and Christopher needed time away or when they were between nannies. She would have cared for him full time on the farm if Christopher had agreed. Little wonder that he turned to her when his own children were born. She let out a sigh. She wasn't ordinarily one for self-reflection, but she wondered nevertheless how it had come to this, his turning to Joan instead of his own mother for help. Perhaps she should have spent more time with him as a child? Would that have made any difference? Was it too late to heal the rift?

Miriam had been finalizing the set of her hair while Margaret had been musing. She held up the hand mirror for Margaret to check out her do and she turned the chair around slowly, "What was it? Oh yes, do they have enough room? Of course, they have plenty of room. The baby will be in with Martin and Louisa for the next several months until he is sleeping through the night so Joanie will have her own room. And Joan is a good cook. Louisa tells me that she arrived the day after Robert was born and has taken over the kitchen so that she and Martin have time to spend with James and Robert. Of course, I will go visit for a week or so at the end of May before they go down to Cornwall for the summer. I need to get to know my new grandson." Miriam let loose with one of her cackles, then added, "By then, two months, he should be doing a little more than eating and pooing!"

Margaret was curious. "What about Martin's aunt's farm. Shouldn't she be planting crops in the spring?"

"Good question. I hadn't thought of that. I don't know. 'Course she has been cutting back these days – plants a small vegetable patch and tends the chickens and sheep. I suppose she has a neighbour to take care of the animals."

"Undoubtedly."

Margaret left the salon conflicted. Seeing Miriam's joy at her new grandson who happened to be Margaret's new grandson, had resurrected the feelings she had so capably quashed after her trip. She vowed to erase these emotions again and headed out to the local shops to treat herself with something pretty. While she was shopping, it suddenly occurred to her that she would never have wanted Martin to turn to her for help, and she laughed out loud, startling the salesgirl who had approached her hoping for a sale, _"God … no. Let Joan help out, changing nappies and burping babies. That's definitely not for me. What was I thinking? This obsession with grandchildren has to stop!"_

As the weeks drifted by, she again found herself easily forgetting about Martin and his family, only remembering when she dropped in at the salon. That is until Portia's granddaughter was born in late May at the same time Miriam was off to England to meet Robert. Portia immediately flew back to Oxford to help out with the baby. She sent daily email missives to her friends replete with pictures, describing the baby's every accomplishment, such as they were with new-borns. Margaret felt obliged to open each message on the off chance that it required a response, but after the first two, she scanned them quickly, briefly glanced at the pictures and deleted them. She had observed that Portia's grandchild, Cecily Jane, wasn't nearly as cute as Robert. How unfortunate that she couldn't pull out his baby pictures to show her friends how much more robust and adorable he was. He was smiling in the pictures that Miriam had brought back from her visit with them in late May; he really was a darling baby.

When Portia finally did return from her two months in Oxford, her talk was of nothing but the baby and her accomplishments. Cecily had just started lifting up her head, and Portia was certain that she would turn over any day. Both Carlotta and Sylvia were full of questions and advice. Margaret thought she would scream. It really was unbearable. Fortunately, Christopher had decided to attend another conference, this one in Copenhagen in late August, and he had indicated that she could join him if she wished. It had been a good many years since they had travelled to Scandinavia and she was looking forward to the trip. There were several interesting side trips planned for spouses and others accompanying the attendees which appeared intriguing. And above all, it would be good to get away from the insular world of their commune where all her friends were focused on their grandchildren.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Margaret and Christopher both enjoyed their time at the Copenhagen conference. It was geared towards general surgeons at or nearing retirement who wished to maintain their credentials, and they ran into several old acquaintances and enjoyed renewing the friendships. At their time of life, they found that they had many interests in common, travel and philanthropic activities among them. Of course, Christopher was able to find a number of golf partners among his peers and was able to set up several rounds of golf after he had met the required minimum hours of "continuing education."

None of the other couples had settled outside of the UK, but several were contemplating the move and quizzed both Margaret and Chris about their lives in Portugal. Chris was in his element entertaining everyone about the delights and challenges of golf in their part of the world. Margaret had less to say about the attractions to be enjoyed if one were not a golfer, but she did play up the beauty of their community, the relaxing atmosphere and social life they enjoyed. Funny how, for most of their friends, the biggest obstacle to relocation was family, especially grandchildren. Grandchildren! Margaret couldn't believe it. Was there to be no end to the talk of grandchildren? Infuriating as it was, Margaret was determined not to be left out of the conversation. If it had to be grandchildren, _she_ could "talk" grandchildren; didn't all her friends have the little angels? So, despite having none of her own, Margaret was cordial in her review of the various grandchildren photos proffered, and she was quick to point out the advantages of a holiday destination for luring the children and grandchildren for long visits.

The weather for the conference was perfect for the tours that the organisers had arranged for those not attending the seminars, clear blue skies and neither too hot not too cold. The excursions appeared to be interesting, informative, and likely entertaining. Margaret decided to skip the outings aimed for those with children, the Tivoli gardens, the Zoo and the National Aquarium. Instead she opted for special tours to the castles located in or near the city, the famed Rosenborg Castle, the ornate Christiansborg Palace, Amalienborg Palace, Frederiksborg Castle, and even the Kronborg Castle where the spirit of Hamlet is said to roam.

After two full days of touring Danish castles with their tapestries, jewels, ornate rooms, and historical tales, Margaret was ready for more amusing activities such as visiting the famed Strøget, where the shopping was "to die for". She and Ginny Norman, a friend from many previous conferences spent two glorious days exploring all the shops along these pedestrian streets packed with luxury brands and other sights and attractions. Margaret was quite pleased with her purchases. She found several splendid items to brighten up their home, among them, an exquisite Royal Copenhagen porcelain tea service to add to her collection, and a Georg Jensen silver pitcher perfect for her dining room sideboard. Best of all, she had found the perfect evening dress for the upcoming charity gala in November, and to top it all off, she found shoes and a bag to match. She knew that once again she would outshine all the others attending.

Margaret had always enjoyed the evenings at these conferences and this colloquium was no different. She was pleased to learn that she hadn't lost her edge with the opposite sex. She loved "innocent flirtations", and she was always at her most captivating when she was surrounded by two or three gentlemen exchanging clever banter or innocuous teasing. After the first evening's cocktail party, there was never a shortage of men attending to her needs where ever she found herself. They were delectable … and the food was excellent as well. Meals catered for these conferences could be hit or miss, but the chefs at the conference hotel had outdone themselves preparing traditional Danish dishes that appealed to most everyone attending. The luncheons provided during the tours were satisfactory, but she and Ginny had delighted in their one experience with a smørrebrød. Not wanting to waste any time with a long and leisurely lunch their first shopping day, they dropped into a small café for a quick sandwich and a cup of coffee for lunch. By the second day, after they had each found several treasures to ship home, they splurged with the traditional Danish lunch, delicious.

As the conference was nearing a close, Margaret and Christopher decided to extend their trip to Scandinavia for an additional two weeks, passing time in Oslo and Stockholm with Ginny and her husband Harry. They had been acquainted with the Normans before Christopher had retired, spending time with them at various conferences over the years. Harry was a good ten years younger than Christopher and had been affiliated with a hospital in Wales. Margaret and Ginny had struck up a friendly acquaintance during those conferences and had renewed their friendship this week as well, enjoying their shopping trip especially.

In Oslo, they took a cruise on the Oslo fjord where the scenery so close to a major city was spectacular. It was late summer and quite cool on the water. Margaret was glad she had packed a warm jacket and scarf. Every evening they sampled the best restaurants the two cities had to offer after full days touring museums and historic buildings. For Margaret, the highlight was the visit to the Drottningholm Palace and the tour of the Drottningholms Slottsteater, the theatre built in 1766 for Queen Louisa Ulrika. In general, she wasn't particularly interested in mechanics, what woman would be she thought. She joined the tour only because the others thought it could be enlightening, but she was completely enthralled by the tour backstage learning how the theatre's mechanical operations put in place back in the 18th century were still in use today. The guides invited several members of the tour to use the equipment to make a thunder and lightning "storm", and Chris, never one to shy away, jumped at the chance. Watching the crew change the sets during the production, made the opera they enjoyed that evening even more sensational knowing just how much work had gone into creating an authentic experience.

She had escaped the grandchildren obsession of her friends and managed to cope with the subject during the conference, but even on this trip there were women of her age comparing pictures and anecdotes about their grandchildren. Some with older ones weren't shy about listing each child's accomplishments. Even their travelling companions, Harry and Ginny, made a few comments about their precocious oldest grandson who was about to enter medical school at the age of 15. One evening at dinner the conversation drifted to the topic of children and grandchildren. Harry was of the opinion that one's offspring were the primary source of joy in life, more so than even attaining the pinnacle of one's career ambitions. Christopher was not to be persuaded, but Harry persevered. "You have a son, don't you Ellingham? Martin Ellingham, head of vascular at Imperial? Outstanding reputation. You must be very proud of him. I bet you have lots to catch up on whenever you get together."

Margaret bowed her head wanting to sink under the table, but Christopher had no such qualms, "We don't speak, haven't since he finished medical school."

"Really? That's a shame. If you don't mind my asking, what happened?"

"Ungrateful child. He refused to do the honourable thing for his country and serve in the Navy. All the Ellingham's have served with pride for generations. But he refused."

Harry was sympathetic, "Not everyone is cut out for military service, you know. How long has it been? Have you tried to reach out to him? It's never too late to reconcile."

"No point. What's done is done." Christopher blustered, trying to change the subject. "So … what's on our agenda for tomorrow?"

Harry shook his head, "Never know when you might need his help. You should think about it."

When they returned to their room that night, Margaret returned to the subject of reconciliation with Martin. "I've been thinking. Harry is right. If either of us were to become ill, it might be good to have Martin available to work with our consultants to ensure that we have the best of care."

"Nonsense. I am perfectly capable of understanding our options if the time comes. You seem to forget that I am a surgeon as well."

"Christopher, it's not a matter of "if", it's a matter of "when". What if you are incapacitated, and unable to speak? I would have to rely completely on the consultant's advice."

"That's a long time off. And if that happens, just let me go. I don't want to be hanging on attached to some ventilator or worse."

"I just think …. "

"Let it drop. We are not reconciling with Martin!"

xxXXXxx

When she returned from her trip, things had settled back into a semblance of normalcy. The novelty of Portia's granddaughter had waned and conversation was currently focused on the spate of strokes experienced by two of the men in their wider circle of friends. It was a sad time and the four close friends were forced to think not only of their husbands' health but of their own. None of them had a long time-horizon left on this earth. Time was short and they needed to make the most of it.

With that in mind, the four friends decided to plan a few trips for the next year. They had each travelled with their husbands to locales both familiar and exotic; but except for Margaret's recent trip to Scandinavia, it had been a decade or more since any of them had ventured beyond Portugal or a short trip back home to England. They started to compile a list of places to revisit or explore: Budapest, Amsterdam, St. Petersburg, India, Sicily, Thailand, Japan; the list grew as they each thought about the places they had dreamed about. They finally settled on an inaugural week- long trip to Paris.

All of them had visited Paris many times before, but thought that it was time to enjoy the delights available in the autumn. They would visit a few museums, the Louvre of course and spend a day at Versailles. There was always something new to see at both venues. And two or three days of shopping at the "les deux grands magasins", Printemps and Galleries Lafayette on Boulevard Haussmann had to be part of the trip. They wanted to do something just a little out of the ordinary and thought a tour of the catacombs might be just the thing, perhaps not. A night at the Moulin Rouge, or le Lido, or even possibly the Folies Bergère would be fun. Dinner at the Eiffel tower would cap off the trip. All in all, their week-long trip ended up being ten days and it was wonderful. They all agreed that they must do it again … in the spring. They would start planning after the holidays.

With the realisation that leaving a legacy was even more important than ever, they worked hard to make their annual November fund raiser more successful than ever. Margaret agreed to chair the planning committee once more, and she threw herself into the preparations. It was hard work and time consuming and Christopher grumbled at the clutter that had overtaken the villa, but it was entirely worth all the extra effort she had to expend. Everyone agreed that it was the most lavish and entertaining event they had sponsored in the past ten years, and the donations to their charity had far surpassed any year in the recent past. The local newspapers had full page spreads of the gala highlighting Margaret's contribution to the night's festivities. She was quite pleased with the results, and enjoyed accolades from the community as well. She had been surrounded by admirers all night long, and the photos in the local paper were excellent, highlighting her beauty as well as her organizational skills. She was quite pleased with the coverage both in the society pages and in the fashion pages where there was a lengthy description of the ball gown she had acquired on her trip to Copenhagen. Margaret had to admit she looked absolutely fabulous.

As always during the holidays, Miriam was a key player in making Margaret look her best. Margaret generally enjoyed the pampering that she received at Miriam's hands, despite the occasional stress she had to endure when Miriam offered pictures of her family. She had been visiting with Louisa when Margaret left for Scandinavia and had brought back several photos of the children. It had only been 5 months or so since Robert's birth but already he had changed, sitting up in his high chair at the table, grinning with a smear of applesauce plastered across his lips. And here he was sitting upright on the floor playing with his toys and laughing heartily. Oh, how nice it would have been to be able to share his pictures with her friends. And James, still such a handsome boy. Miriam went on and on about how advanced he was, reading at a year 2 level according to his mother. He had celebrated his fourth birthday in July several weeks before her visit, so most of Miriam's photos were of Louisa and the children on the beach splashing at the water's edge, at the playground, or around the farmhouse playing with Joan. Miriam had even caught a few snaps with Ruth as she was reading a book to the two boys. Seeing Ruth at the farm always surprised Margaret though it shouldn't have. Ruth was a frequent visitor to the farm years ago when they were all young, bringing the odd fellow around for the family to vet. Once Christopher's career took off, they rarely returned except to drop Martin off for the summer, but she supposed the two sisters remained close, she really hadn't ever thought about it until now.

Margaret and Chris had a quiet Christmas as they always did now that most of their friends had grandchildren. That was fine with Margaret because it gave her more time to prepare her special New Year's Eve holiday celebration. She was fortunate that Miriam had an early morning slot available to arrange her hair in a simple but elegant style, nothing quite as elaborate as the previous year. Louisa had sent her mother a new photo album with pictures of the family's Christmas, and Miriam was full of talk about their holiday celebration. It was just the Ellinghams that year. Miriam's son and his family had spent the holidays with his wife's family, but even so, there were plenty of photos to share. Margaret flipped through the album dutifully, pausing at several close-ups of the two boys. There was one picture of Martin sitting with the two boys reading a book. Robert was seated on his lap clutching a small giraffe and a small brown bear to his chest. His head was resting on Martin's chest and his eyes were focused on the book. Martin, in his shirtsleeves with tie askew, had his arm wrapped close around James who was also intently staring at the book. She looked more closely at the picture to see the title of the book, _The Night Before Christmas._ How appropriate, she thought cynically, although it was a beautiful picture of a father with his sons, even Margaret had to admit that. Miriam noticed that Margaret had stopped to inspect it and commented, "Yeah. That's Louisa's favourite of all the photos. She says it's her three boys, the way she always wants to remember them."

"Mmm … "Margaret turned the page where there were several pictures of Robert. He was growing up so quickly. There were pictures of him standing at the tables scattered about the lounge, grinning with pride. It was obvious that he was ready to walk. When Margaret commented on his achievements, Miriam confirmed that he was standing on his own now and that it was only a matter of time before he took those first few tentative steps. "They grow up entirely too fast. Joan says that Martin was early to walk as well, precocious in so many ways. You should hear her brag on his childhood accomplishments. She claims that James and Robert are both following in his footsteps …. so to speak. She let loose a laugh at that last line.

Margaret smiled, graciously acknowledging the pun, "Ah, yes."

Martin was an early walker. Funny, Margaret mused, that she didn't remember his first steps. She supposed that the nanny encouraged him, or possibly Joan during that late summer trip she and Christopher took to … somewhere. Their nanny had just given notice and Joan took the train down to watch Martin until they could find a new nanny. Martin would have been nine months perhaps, several months before his first birthday at any rate. He was sitting on the floor when they arrived home from their trip playing with some blocks. Joan picked him up and handed him to her. She remembered Joan nattering on about how clever he was. He was a big baby and heavy. She remembered giving him a kiss and returning him to Joan so she could go upstairs to freshen up from the trip. Joan left for Cornwall shortly after their return, after they had engaged a new nanny, who was diligent in giving them a full report of his activities at the end of every day. She must have reported his first steps one of those days, she couldn't remember. Margaret recalled that she always made a point of dropping into the nursery every morning before she went out, and she did remember him crawling over to pull himself up, tugging on her skirts. At some point he was toddling over to her. Was he standing and walking before his first birthday? Was that earlier than for most infants? She had no idea, but she did remember how annoying it was, how she had to straighten and smooth her skirts before going out after those few moments in the nursery. It was a long time ago.

She flipped through the remaining pages of the photo album. There was a nice photo of Joan sitting in front of the Christmas tree with the two boys. Amazing how photogenic those children were. How fortunate that neither had inherited Martin's overly large ears. Margaret thought Joan looked a bit off, a bit weary; maybe having all the family about and caring for the new baby was too much for her. Martin needed to keep an eye on her, but really, that wasn't any of her business, was it? She had a party to host that night, best to keep her focus on that. She placed the photo album back on Miriam's table, "Very nice pictures." She glanced toward the windows at the front of the shop, "Looks like the weather should be nice for all of tonight's festivities."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

It was sometime in mid-February when Margaret arrived at the salon to find a young child sitting on a stool near Miriam's station. He was holding a clipboard on his lap and a crayon in his hand and was intently focused on a picture that he was drawing. Margaret glanced at him briefly as she walked past to the changing room, noticing only his blond hair. He must belong to one of the other stylist's clients she thought. It was only when she returned to take her place near the sink that she looked at him more closely and realised that it was James. He had grown in the year since she had last seen him; his legs were longer and he had slimmed down. His face had changed as well; she couldn't quite say how, but he appeared more mature; it was as though she could see the face of the young man he would become starting to emerge; he was less a toddler and more a young primary school child. Of course, he was four and a half now; it was time for him to grow out of his baby fat, she supposed.

Miriam spoke to him, "James, please say hello to Miss Margaret."

"Hello, Miss." James looked up from his work and, with a quiet smile, he greeted her as he was instructed.

"Good afternoon James. It's nice to meet you. Your grandmother has told me so much about you."

James beamed at her and added, "I'm drawing a picture of the beach. Would you like to see it?" He jumped down from his stool and brought his picture over to Margaret. "See it has the ocean and a sailboat with a palm tree on the beach. And here is Mimi's house up on the hill."

The drawing was very simplistic, but Margaret felt it would be impolite to ignore the boy's efforts, "That's very nice James. I like how you drew the sun and some clouds. Very realistic."

Miriam leaned over and gave him a kiss on the top of his head. "Thank you, James. Now go back to your seat so I can fix Miss Margaret's hair."

"Yes ma'am." James returned to his seat and resumed his work, exchanging his crayon for one of a different colour.

Miriam apologised as she began to wash Margaret's hair, 'I'm so sorry. Louisa is visiting this week and she needed to run get some bits and bobs for Robert and asked if James could stay here whilst she did her errands. He's really good as gold and I don't think he will bother us. Louisa shouldn't be much longer."

"Mmm. Yes, he does seem to be a very well-behaved child."

As they moved over to the chair and Miriam started her work, Margaret studied James a little more closely. She could see some of Martin's features surfacing in his face, but muted. His lips weren't quite so large, nor were his ears, thank god for that. His was a face that had potential, and his overall demeanour was quite pleasant. She hoped he wouldn't turn sullen and withdrawn as he matured, as his father had.

"Have Louisa and the children been here long?" Margaret had to admit to herself that she was curious to get a look at Louisa and Robert in person … especially Robert. She hoped that Louisa wouldn't remember her from last year at the resort.

"They arrived Sunday and will go back to London on Saturday. To tell you the truth, I am just about ready for them to go. Robert is getting into everything these days. He crawls faster than most children can walk, and he loves to climb. I've had to put up all my knick-knacks, ash trays, and anything else that isn't nailed down up higher than he can reach."

"I thought you said he had started to walk."

Miriam shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes, "Yeah, he is walking, but when he wants to cover ground in a hurry, he drops to the floor and crawls. I don't know how Louisa keeps up with him."

"Children can be quite energetic" Margaret replied, "in my experience."

"Yeah, that they are." Miriam leaned around Margaret and reached under her table to pull out an album of hair styles, "I've been thinking. Have you thought about a new look? Nothing too radical, but perhaps a bit shorter at the sides with just a bit of layering. It will be spring soon and a fresh look might be just the thing. She opened the page she had marked, "I was thinking something like this. Hmmm?"

Margaret hadn't thought of making any changes and was somewhat taken aback at the suggestion. Still it was flattering that her stylist had thought of something special just for her. The style was quite lovely. Perhaps she should consider an update. "How difficult would it be for me to maintain during the week?"

"Not much different from your current style. I can show you what you need to do."

"Let me think about it. I'll let you know before I come in next week."

"That'll work. Now, you do need a slight trim today." Miriam picked up her shears and made a few snips before pulling out her dryer.

Before long, Louisa peeked in, "Mum. I'm going to take James and head back to the house. See you later?"

Miriam paused and stepped back from the chair. Margaret could see Louisa in the mirror; she appeared unkempt with her hair falling out of its ponytail and her clothes askew. She shifted in her chair, straining ever so discreetly hoping to catch a glimpse of Robert.

"Where's Robert? I want to show him off." Miriam walked away from Margaret to peek over Louisa's shoulder. Before Louisa could respond, Miriam had found Robert and picked him up out of his push chair and walked up next to Louisa. "Louisa, I've told Margaret so much about you and the kiddies. She's met James, and I'm sure that she'd loved to meet you. Margaret, this is my daughter Louisa and this is Robert."

Margaret turned around in her chair, and using her most polished London accent and a simple smile, greeted them formally, "Yes, your mother is always talking about you and the children. She is very proud of you." Again, Margaret hoped that she looked and sounded different enough from a year ago that Louisa wouldn't make any connection to their meeting at the resort last winter.

Louisa smiled, ducking her head and trying unsuccessfully to tidy her hair back into its band. "It's nice to meet you ... and it's so very nice to hear that she tells her clients good things about us."

"You have lovely children. And James is quite the young gentleman, so well behaved."

"Yes, we are quite proud of him." She reached over to take Robert from her mother's arms and Robert grinned broadly at Margaret. "Mum, I need to take the children back to the house. Robert is overdue for his nap." She settled Robert back in his push-chair, then turned to her older son, "James, put your crayons and picture away. It's time to go."

"Just a minute mummy. I need to sign this picture." In a moment James hopped down from his stool, walked over to Margaret and held out his artwork. "Would you like my picture?"

Louisa interjected, "Oh James that is so sweet, but I doubt that Miss Margaret has any place to put a new picture."

Margaret gently shook her head at Louisa, "I would love to have your picture James. It's beautiful, and so kind of you to give it to me. I will keep it in a special place to remember you by." She held it out and perused it, "And I see where you have signed it …. James Henry Ellingham. That makes it even more special."

James was beaming as Louisa turned to go and ushered him out the door. "Did you hear that Mummy. She likes my picture."

Miriam returned to Margaret, "You were very kind to James. Thank you."

"He's a special little boy. I can see why you are so proud of your daughter and her children."

"Yeah, she's done a good job with James. You wouldn't know it, but Robert is usually a lot friendlier … guess we didn't give him enough time."

"He seems quite sweet."

"Yes."

After Margaret left the salon, she stopped by one of the shops and bought a frame for James' picture. She hung it inside her wardrobe where she could look at it each day and, more importantly, where Christopher would never see it. She found herself studying this picture more often than she had anticipated. It was a simple child's depiction of the beach, primitive really with no hint of future artistic talent. Even James' signature was uneven and childish, although that was to be expected as he was not yet five. Why, she wondered, was she drawn to it? She smiled to herself as she recalled his friendly manner, open and congenial, all that his father was not. He really was a charming child. If she closed her eyes, she could still recall his face as he asked if she would like his drawing, so sweet and generous.

She had never understood the appeal of children. They were either loud and offensive, miniature terrorists running through public spaces disturbing the peace, or they were crying and whinging, pestering their parents for some toy or other trinket. That was how she imagined all her friends' grandchildren. James was different. He could easily be a delightful companion, and she could imagine spending time with him. In James, she could see the appeal of grandchildren. She reached out to touch his drawing and sighed.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

James took a big breath and blew out the five candles on his birthday cake as his family and friends sang the birthday song to him. His mother stood close behind him beaming and his dad was standing across the table next to his Uncle Chris and Uncle Stefan. James was able to extinguish all the candles with one breath and all the party started clapping. With a big grin on his face, he looked up at his dad, who nodded his head in recognition of his achievement with a quiet, "Well done James."

Louisa noticed the moment that father and son shared, the tenderness in Martin's eyes, and she smiled to herself as she wiped a single tear that crossed her cheek. When she had first suggested to Martin that they celebrate James' birthday this year with a number of their friends at the farm, she feared that he would dismiss the idea out of hand. He hated large social gatherings, much preferring the company of just his small family or a quiet dinner with one other couple. He surprised her this time by agreeing; it was James' fifth birthday after all. She just hoped that he would maintain his patience until the last guests went home.

Martin's only stipulation was that there were to be no presents from the other guests. He and Louisa had already decided on their gifts for James, a simple microscope from Martin and a special set of Legos from Louisa. They had given him these presents two nights ago in a quiet family celebration, right after Martin arrived from London. They didn't want to spoil the boy with too many toys that he might never use. As it was, Ruth and Miriam were both likely to give him something special, as would his Uncle Alan's family. Martin had also wanted to give him a frog to dissect, just as his grandfather had on his own fifth birthday, but Louisa had demurred. James was fascinated by all living creatures, that she knew. She had to pull him away from a nest of beetles in order to pick up Martin when he arrived from London. Even so, she wasn't sure James was quite ready for an introductory anatomy course. Martin disagreed and, after much discussion, she acquiesced to the frog at his next birthday.

So here they were, hosting a barbeque at the farm this summer with friends and family. It was the largest gathering they had held at the farm ever. Her mother had spent a week with her brother Alan and his family at their home in Leeds and drove down with them to spend a holiday week in Cornwall. Martin's Aunt Ruth was there, "Graunty Ruth" or just plain "Graunty" to the boys, a designation to which she feigned dismay but in which she secretly delighted. Their friends, Chris and Michelle Parsons were there with their three children along with her dear Port Isaac friends Alicia and Stefan.

Their close friends Amy and Thomas Woodvine had come down from London for the week and were staying in a village holiday cottage with their daughter Gina and toddler son Tommy. Jeanine and Walter had driven over for a few days from Dorset; Martin and Louisa had continued the friendship with the couple after the "wedding from hell" and Jeanine and Walter usually came to visit for a long weekend each summer. They had married two years ago and now they were expecting their first child who was due to arrive later in August.

Aunt Holly was on holiday with her newest boyfriend, Arthur, who had booked a private villa on the coast of Crete. It sounded idyllic. Booking such a wonderful holiday for the two of them just might mean he was serious about Holly. She and Martin had had dinner with Holly and Arthur a month or so ago and they both liked him. Perhaps he would be "the one"; Louisa hoped so; but Holly had never had any luck with men; the odds were not good.

The only person missing was Joan, James' and Robert's "Gamma". Joan should have been there for she loved James as much as any grandmother could, but she had left them in January. Louisa kept thinking of her all during the party, wishing that she could have been there and she knew that Martin was thinking of her as well. The farm had been her home for decades and the memory of her was everywhere they looked. They had to explain more than once to James that his Gamma couldn't come back from heaven for his birthday, and that he would have to settle knowing that she was looking down on him as he celebrated. Martin had been sceptical about all the talk of heaven since there was no scientific evidence for such a place, but Louisa reminded him that there was no evidence that it did not exist, that most people in the country believed in its existence and it was comforting to think that a loved one was in a good place. Martin reluctantly relented; while he didn't extoll the attributes of heaven, neither did he deny them, letting Louisa help James in her way. Just as he had done in the days after Joan's death, he spent a quiet hour with James the night before the party looking through her photo albums and sharing their memories of her. Louisa knew this was his way of helping James, and she could only hope that it helped not just her son, but also her husband who missed his Aunty Joan more than he would ever admit.

It was one of those idyllic summer evenings on the north Cornwall coast, warm but not hot, with a clear sky that would stay light for hours into the night. Martin and Stefan had manned the grill and everyone enjoyed the chicken, fish, and especially the hamburgers that Louisa insisted be included in the menu. Louisa and her mother had prepared several sides that were healthy, Miriam's courgette salad and Portuguese tomato rice and Louisa's vegetable pasta salad, along with some crusty whole meal bread.

Martin had even been agreeable to providing their guests with several selections of wine and beer and Chris Parsons had brought a bottle of fine single malt whiskey like that he frequently enjoyed in Martin's flat as a poor medical student, but which Martin no longer kept in the house.

Once all the cake and ice cream had been consumed, the children became restless and it was time to leave the table. Louisa joined the women who congregated in the kitchen to clean up and enjoy a bit of gossip while the men settled on the terrace, each with a glass of Chris' special whiskey. It promised to be a very convivial evening. Their assignment was to keep an eye on the younger children playing on the lawn, running and chasing each other and throwing a ball. The older children, the Parson's three and Louisa's two nieces wandered off to explore the rocky sea cove. Louisa kept an eye on things nonetheless, peeking out the window periodically to assure herself that the younger children were safe.

James and Gina were accustomed to playing together in London parks and they were kicking the football around the small lawn near the terrace. They would occasionally let the two toddlers pick up the ball and pass it around, but after a peaceful half hour of play, all four of them tumbled into a heap on the grass and the boys were compelled to start wrestling. Martin jumped up and clapped his hands, "No, no, nooo …" Gina managed to slip out of the melee to find a safe place on her father's lap, but the boys continued to roll around, laughing and squealing and enjoying the physical play.

Thomas set Gina down and pulled himself out of his chair to help Martin separate the boys as Louisa and the other women came out of the kitchen. "What's going on?"

Martin had just lifted up Robert and was holding him, wriggling, at arm's length, and shouted in reply, "The children are rolling around in the dirt. They will be filthy. There's no telling what pathogens they are being exposed to."

Thomas managed to collar Tommy, leaving James alone, sprawled on his belly with his head propped up on his hands. "Dad, we were just having some fun!"

Thomas felt he had to speak up and added, "I'm sure there's no harm done. A little dirt never hurt anyone."

At this point Walter, the Dorset GP, felt compelled to speak, "Getting dirty is fine, but it's important that they not ingest any of that dirt. Toddlers like Robert and Tommy can't be expected to keep their dirty fingers out of their mouths. The popular conception that ingesting a little dirt is good for a child's immune system is completely false. There are microbes in soil that can cause serious infections. Martin is right to be concerned."

Holding James and Robert each securely by the hand, but not close enough to risk dirtying his own clothes, Martin nodded to Walter as he ushered the two squirming boys towards Louisa, "Thank you."

Stopping in front of Louisa, he presented the two boys covered in dirt to her, "Do you want to take them to the bath or shall I?"

Turning to Amy, she said, "Why don't we take all three of the boys to the tub? It could be fun."

Amy agreed, "That's a great idea. Gina can get her bath when we return to the cottage." She took Tommy from her husband and followed Louisa as she started to enter the house.

Martin shouted to them, "Best strip them before taking them inside. They'll scatter dirt all over the floors otherwise."

Louisa turned to give Martin one of her looks, but then reconsidered, "Yes. That would be prudent. James, off with your clothes."

James looked at her incredulously, "Mummy! Not in front of everyone!"

"Yes. You can leave your pants on, but everything else off, shoes and socks too."

James huffed, but moved behind his mother for a modicum of privacy and began to slowly shed his clothes. Louisa and Amy stripped the toddlers and then marched the three of them up the stairs to the tub. The boys were covered in dirt, head to toe, so they scrubbed them down with soap and then rinsed them off before filling the tub to let them play for a bit.

The adults took this break to refill their glasses and Martin went into the house to pull a few more chairs out onto the terrace for the women. After fifteen minutes or so, he strode up the stairs and knocked on the bathroom door. The boys were splashing and squealing as they played with Robert's squeaky yellow ducky, the toy alligator, the toy boats and other water toys that were kept in a basket under the dresser for bath time. The noise was almost deafening, but the two women, engrossed in a conversation, barely noticed. They were sitting on a small bench that they kept in the room for just this purpose and didn't hear Martin's knock. He knocked louder and Louisa shouted over the din, "Come in."

Martin opened the door and, appalled at the sight, barked, "Louisa, what is going on in here?" He looked down and before she could reply, he cried, "There's water all over the floor!"

Louisa looked at the floor and replied, "Yes there is. That always happens when we bathe the boys together. It's fine"

"It doesn't always happen. It never happens when I bathe them. They know they are not to splash when in the bath."

Louisa sighed and smiled sheepishly at Amy who screwed up her mouth and looked away, not wanting to get involved in this little domestic tiff between her friend and her husband. Louisa was aware that she was a bit more lenient with bath time discipline than Martin was, especially when he was away. She looked up at Martin and gave him a toned-down version of "the look" which she hoped he would understand to mean, _please don't make a scene with Amy here_ , then told him, "It's alright Martin. I'll mop it up when we finish."

Martin noticed the look and somewhat mollified with her plan to mop it up, responded stiffly, "Hmmm. Right. I came up to see if you needed any help."

"I thought they could play for another five minutes or so. You could take Robert then. But I can take care of them both if you'd prefer to go back to our guests."

Tipping his head toward the stairs, Martin replied, "Our guests all seem to be quite content with their drinks." He stood at the door for a few moments longer, glancing around the room, and then added, "I'll just get their pyjamas and some towels." He had noticed that Louisa had failed to get any towels before putting the boys in the tub. Turning to Amy, he asked, "Do you have any clean clothes for Tommy?"

Amy looked up, "Yes, they are in my bag in our car. Could you ask Thomas to retrieve them for me, please?"

"Yes," Martin replied and jogged down the stairs, conferred with Thomas and jogged back up. He then went into the boys' bedroom where he took their pyjamas from under their pillows, and pulled three towels from the linen cupboard before going back in to help dry the boys off.

"All right then, Robert." He reached out to his youngest son who continued to splash gaily, "Robert." Martin gave him a stern look, and Robert, with an equally obdurate look, made one last grand splash and then stood up and reached out his arms to his father.

Realising that bath time was now officially over, Louisa pulled the plug and announced, "Okay James, Tommy, time to get out of the tub."

Within a few minutes all three boys were dried off, in their pyjamas, hair combed and back downstairs to say their good-nights. As they walked out to the terrace, they were greeted with cheers from their friends. Louisa laughed, "Yes the boys clean up quite nicely don't they?"

Chris, piped up, "Well, yes they do. But the cheers are for Martin."

Louisa and Martin looked at each other confused, Martin sputtering, "Wha …?"

Chris continued, "Ruth and Walter were just telling us a story about how you defended Louisa's honour at a wedding a number of years back."

Louisa started to laugh, the memory of that night now grown funny as the years passed, but she covered her mouth as she saw that Martin didn't share her amusement. His eyes were growing wide, and she could see the anger rising in his face, "Ruth!" he cried, "That was told to you in confidence. You had no right to share it with others."

"Martin, both Thomas and Walter were there. It's not as though it's a great secret."

"And you decked Dennis Manson … well done Martin!" Chris was beside himself. He knew the reputation of the infamous solicitor, and couldn't believe that his close friend had actually beaten the man in a fistfight.

Martin stiffened as his face reddened and he blustered, "I would hardly say …."

Ignoring Martin's effort to protest, Chris continued to gush enthusiastically, "Did you hear? He recently lost a big malpractice case against a hospital in Bristol. Seems his client wasn't as forthcoming about his injuries as he should have been and the hospital was shown to be completely in the right."

"Really?" Martin tucked his head in thought as he processed this information.

"It was a vascular case. I'm surprised you hadn't heard."

"No, I rarely pay attention to that kind of gossip." He tugged on his shirtsleeves and raised his eyebrows as a small smile crept across his face, "Good to hear, though."

Louisa had been holding Robert as this scene unfolded and she put him down in one of the empty chairs and walked over to Martin, wrapping her arms around his waist and giving him a chaste kiss on the lips, "My hero."

"Louisa!" Martin cried, flushing a bright red.

Shortly afterwards, the party started to break up. Thomas and Amy bid them farewell with promises to call the next day to plan an outing with the children. Within a half-hour the party had broken up with just Ruth and Miriam staying at the farm.

"I think the day went exceedingly well, don't you Martin?" All the guests had long gone, the children were in bed, the house was quiet, and Louisa and Martin had taken a few minutes to sneak away for a short walk to the cliffs overlooking the sea. They often took this walk when they were visiting the farm. The sun was settling lower in the sky with just a few clouds scattering its rays about. The air still held the warmth of the day, but the constant breeze off the ocean swirled around them with the hint of the cooler temperatures that sunset would bring.

'Mmm. Satisfactory." Martin agreed with her.

She looked at her monosyllabic husband and repeated his words back to him, "Yes. It was satisfactory."

"It would have been better if they hadn't dredged up that ancient history."

"Mmm, that was unfortunate." She reached over to rub his back in an effort to soothe the anguish those memories engendered. "Let's try to put that episode back in the vault where it belongs. Shall we? Hmmm?"

"Yes."

They arrived at the edge of the cliff and stopped, standing together gazing out over the restless sea. She slipped her arm around his waist and he responded by placing his arm around her shoulder. "This is nice, isn't it?"

'Yes."

"I never had a chance to ask you if James liked his microscope."

"He did. We spent several hours with it yesterday morning. We found a few chicken feathers near the pen and inspected their structure. We also used it to examine several of the beetles around the barn. He was fascinated by the colours in their bodies. We even examined several different plant leaves. It was informative for me as well. Tomorrow I will find some websites describing exactly what we saw so we can learn the proper terminology."

"Is that really necessary? He's only five."

"Yes, it's important to learn to use the correct language when describing nature's wonders."

"I suppose you are right."

"Of course I am."

"Brrr …" Louisa shivered as a gust of wind rushed up the coastal path. The wind had picked up and there were swells rising out at sea, threatening the shore as the surf began to pound the rocks below. Martin wrapped his arm more tightly around her shoulder and turned to face the farm, "Hmm … dark clouds are gathering. We should head back before the storm hits."

Louisa sighed and burrowed closer into his chest, "Maybe in a minute. We don't get that much time to ourselves. I'd like to enjoy it a few minutes longer."

Martin glanced over his shoulder, "Right – one minute more and then we should definitely head back."

He stooped to whisper in her ear, "And we will have time all to ourselves in our bedroom."

"Mmm …" she purred as she turned to face him, "Do you have anything special in mind?"

He lifted her face to his and kissed her softly, "I do indeed."

She smiled up at him seductively, "Then I suppose we should go."

"Yes."

 **Author's note: Happy Valentines Day to everyone in the Doc Martin fan fiction world. Have a wonderful day with your loved ones.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter** **20**

Whilst Miriam was visiting her family in England, Margaret and her three good friends were enjoying a trip to Switzerland and savouring a few weeks of cooler weather away from the heat of the southern Portuguese coast. All four of the ladies were inveterate shoppers, and they passed several days in the shops in both Geneva and Zurich. They found other delights as well. They took a day cruise on Lake Geneva with a stop at one of the local wineries for a mid-day meal. Whilst in Zurich, they took a day trip out to visit a cheese factory and a chocolate factory, one of their favourite parts of the trip. Margaret realised as she unpacked when she returned home that she had purchased more chocolate than she could use so she decided to take some to Miriam as a gift when it was time to resume her weekly visits.

Miriam was delighted with her present," Oooh" she exclaimed. "Who doesn't like chocolate?" Closing her eyes, she inhaled the aroma of the exquisite confection and sighed, adding under her breath, "except for old Grumpy Pants."

Margaret caught the reference and raised her eyebrows, "Grumpy Pants?"

Miriam burst out with a hearty laugh as she started trimming Margaret's hair, "That's what I call Martin, my son-in-law. James had a chocolate cake with chocolate icing for his birthday party and Martin refused to have any. I mean really, who doesn't like chocolate? Well, more for the rest of us, I always say."

"Yes, I agree." Margaret bent her head down as Miriam worked, "So, did James enjoy his birthday?"

"He seemed to enjoy the party. Louisa had invited several of their friends and their children. It was on the farm with plenty of room for the children to run and play outside so we adults could relax and enjoy the afternoon. James was quite proud of himself that he was able to blow all the candles out with one breath. Even Martin applauded. Alan was taking pictures and managed to get a really good one of James grinning after he blew out the candles. I'll show you some of the photos after I finish here."

True to her word, Miriam handed Margaret a small album of pictures to peruse whilst she sat under the dryer. Margaret wasn't certain that she wanted to look at these pictures, but the good manners her mother had instilled in her at an early age compelled her to scan them and find something nice to say. There were pictures of all of Miriam's family; she recognised Miriam's son Alan and his family; she had seen them often enough. And there was Ruth, Christopher's sister along with the pictures of Louisa and Martin's children. James certainly was a handsome child; she remembered how polite he was both times she had interacted with him. Robert was an attractive child as well. Too bad she couldn't show these pictures to her friends.

There were several others in these photos that she didn't recognise. One picture had Martin standing next to four other men around what appeared to be a barbeque grill. Really, why couldn't Martin smile for the camera? No wonder Miriam called him 'Mr. Grumpy Pants'. Christopher was always able to put on a happy face for the camera, even when he was in a foul mood. She looked to see if she recognised any of the other men in the picture although she had no reason to expect she would. One of the men looked vaguely familiar, very similar to Martin's friend from medical school; she couldn't remember his name, but if he had some hair and were less portly, it could very well be him. The others were complete strangers to her.

And Miriam was right, there were quite a few children in the group. She briefly gave thanks that she wasn't part of Martin's life and expected to attend a gathering like this. The noise from the children must have been deafening.

One person seemed to be missing and she flipped through the album searching for Joan. If the party was held on her farm, she should have been there. She returned the album to Miriam, commenting politely, "It does look like a happy gathering. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Oh yeah … great food. Good drinks. Martin's friend Chris brought a bottle of whiskey, the really good stuff. I had several shots, and I slept well that night, I will tell you."

Margaret couldn't contain her curiosity, "I noticed that Martin's aunt wasn't in any of the photos."

Miriam nodded her head, "Ruth was there … oh … oh" She stopped short, and then turned serious, "Oh … Joanie … I suppose I didn't tell you. She passed away earlier this year. All very sad."

"Oh," Margaret mulled over this information wondering if Christopher knew. Did Martin inherited the farm then? Was it possible that Christopher could have any claim, despite his previous assertion that he had signed his share over to Joan a few years ago? She wanted to ask Miriam, but good manners precluded it, however, good manners did require her to offer her condolences. "I'm so sorry. I'm sure she was missed."

"Yeah. I think she was. Still it was a good party." Miriam leaned over to pick up a comb from her station and started to chuckle. "Ruth, that's Martin's other aunt, told us the best story that night. Not everyone knew each other so they were telling stories of how they all met Martin and Louisa. Two of the men were married to friends of Louisa from university. It seems that they all got together for a wedding a number of years ago … this was before Louisa married Martin. Halfway through the reception, Martin was in a fight with Louisa's ex-husband."

Margaret moved restlessly in her chair at this news flash. She had so many questions, but she needed to maintain her patrician reserve. She responded with tempered curiosity, "Louisa was married before?"

"Oh yeah, to a Portwenn local. Well he's not local anymore, big shot London solicitor, but he grew up there."

'I don't think you ever told me that."

"Yeah. They got married right out of university. She went to work teaching there in London whilst he was in law school. The tosser cheated on her almost from the beginning. Once she found out, she divorced him. That was years and years ago."

Miriam put the final touches on Margaret's "do", gave her a hand mirror and started to slowly turn her chair so Margaret could examine her handiwork, but Margaret put her foot out to stop the chair. "Wait. You said Louisa's current husband was in a fight with her ex-husband?" Margaret couldn't control the sly grin that crept onto her face. "This sounds like a delicious story. Tell me more."

Miriam looked at the clock on the wall. "Well okay, I do have a few more minutes before my next client arrives." She braced herself against her station table and leaned over in a conspiratorial posture to relate her story. "One of the men, Walter, he's a GP. Well … he looked after Martin's wounds after the fight; he didn't really know how it all began, but Ruth did." Miriam shook her head as she continued, "She's one clever lady; not much gets past her."

Ruth knew the details. That shocked Margaret; Joan had always been the one to know every little detail of the family's business. Ruth was always above it all. "How did Ruth know about it."

"She had brunch with Louisa and Martin the next day. Seems Martin had a whopper of a black eye and she managed to wangle the whole story out of them. Denny, that's Louisa's ex, said something about Louisa that Martin found offensive so he threw some wine in Denny's face. Then Denny punched him. That's how Martin got the black eye. But Martin got his revenge by tripping Denny as he walked away and Denny hit his face on a table and got pretty banged up as well."

"That quite a story. Louisa's husband doesn't seem the type to get in a fight. Did Ruth say what made Martin so angry?"

"No, she didn't know. Neither Martin nor Louisa would tell her. Makes you wonder doesn't it?" Miriam paused for a moment and leaned back. "You know, I wouldn't have thought Martin the type to get in a fight either, but he does have a quick temper. I could see it happening."

She started to laugh again, "What's even better than the story itself is what happened after. Martin and Louisa were upstairs bathing the boys when Ruth was telling her story and they walked in just as she was finishing. We all clapped and cheered as he walked onto the terrace. Both of them looked very confused until his friend Chris explained that Ruth was just telling them how he had defended Louisa's honour all those years ago." Miriam continued, pulling herself up straight and tall and puffing out her chest, "He started spluttering and huffing and puffing, 'Ruth, that is nobody's business. How dare you tell that story.' It was actually quite sweet. Louisa walked up to him and put her arm around his waist and gave him a kiss. 'Yes, he is my knight in shining armour.'"

"I do believe he turned beet red. He finds any kind of public affection very embarrassing. If it weren't for those two children you might think he never touched Louisa." She gave Margaret a conspiratorial grin, "But I know for a fact that he's very affectionate when they are alone, very attentive, I can tell you."

"Really?" Margaret was interested. Normally she would give Miriam's assertion little credence, but the memory of Martin and Louisa kissing in the garden at the resort the previous year flashed across her mind, giving it credibility. She was curious to hear more, but Miriam was going to make her wait.

"A story for another time. I need to get ready for my next client." She turned Margaret around in her chair. "Everything look alright?"

'Yes, quite nice as usual. See you again next week?" Margaret rose from the chair and made her way to the changing room to remove the smock and don her own blouse and scarf.

As she drove home, she thought about the tale that Miriam had just told her. She had always thought of her son as closed off, an impassive automaton. He was a fussy baby, clingy and whingy, but by the time he had reached three, he had become quiet, awkward and strange, keeping himself apart, always watching, but never saying anything unless directly spoken to. Even then he kept his answers brief, never offering more than was necessary. He seemed more open with his grandfather who had the time to share some of his interests with him. Grandfather Henry even gave him a frog to dissect on his fifth birthday. She was aghast when she heard of their encounter in Henry's study. Martin merely replied "The insides of the frog were very interesting. I want to be a doctor so I can fix people's insides like Grandfather."

Once he was off to school, he kept to his books when he was home. Of course, Christopher had insisted that he be the best in all his classes and Martin tried to comply with all that his father demanded. Joan claimed that he was quite boisterous when he was with them on the farm, helping out with the chores and gadding about with Phil in the fields or helping her with her deliveries and telling them all about his day when they had supper in the evening. Margaret thought about how she had never seen that side of him.

He never brought friends home for school breaks like other boys did. Of course, she and Christopher were often travelling during those breaks and he spent many of them at the farm or at school. Odd as that seems now, she knew she was grateful that he never asked to bring anyone home to visit. It would have been extremely inconvenient to have another child in the house making noise and getting in the way.

Things were no different once he started medical school; she was certain that Christopher would have enjoyed regaling Martin's fellow medical students with tales of the operating room, but Martin spent very little time at their home, preferring to keep to his rooms near the school. There was that woman he brought round while he was in medical school. What was her name? Margaret searched her memory. She was quite lovely, elegant in a refined way … came from a good family … her father was an MP as she recalled. Montgomery … yes … _Edith_ Montgomery. Martin seemed quite smitten, and Edith would have made him a perfect wife. She would know just how to groom him to function in society and make his way up the career ladder. Unfortunately, she had career ambitions of her own; Margaret was certain that she would have pushed Martin to be a more successful man despite that. What had happened there, she wondered. One moment they were together and the next she had disappeared. Perhaps their relationship was merely a convenient medical school liaison. It was at the same time Martin announced his decision to take a position in the NHS and not the Navy, which infuriated Christopher. He had never forgiven him for that and they hadn't spoken since.

Now over the past two years she had learned more of her son's life from her hairdresser than she had known in the previous forty plus years of his existence. She had observed that he seemed fond of his family when she made that trip to the resort two years ago, and that kiss he gave his wife certainly demonstrated that he had a healthy carnal appetite. Evidently, he had other emotional depths that she never could have imagined. To think that he would confront another man who had disparaged his wife was almost beyond belief. Well it was beyond belief, but Ruth was the source of the story; she wouldn't make up something like that. And Ruth had heard it directly from both Martin and Louisa the very day after the event.

How was it that Ruth was in Martin's life and not his own mother? From Miriam's description of him, it was possible that he could have been a successful addition to their social circle, but he had never shown any interest in spending time with them. Even when she and Christopher were living in London, he rarely joined them for brunch or dinner and never attended any of the parties they threw for their medical colleagues. Once he and his father had fallen out over that Navy business, they never saw him again. And she was the one to pay the price, alienated from her son and unable to enjoy the benefits of having grandchildren. It wasn't that she herself wanted that relationship particularly, but she certainly didn't want Ruth to have it instead. Life was not fair, truly not fair.

Margaret grimaced as she parked her car next to their villa and pressed her head against the steering wheel. Why was she singled out for unhappiness? How was it that first Joan, and now Ruth, had taken the place that was rightfully hers? Ruth … aah … she remembered the pictures that Miriam had shown her. Those photos of Ruth! Wizened and wrinkled … she really had not aged well. She gazed at her own reflection in the car mirror and brushed her fingers against her own still smooth cheek. That was some consolation, at the very least.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Louisa settled into a chair in the arrivals lounge at Luton airport and pulled a book out of her bag to help pass the time whilst she waited for her mother's plane to land. It was mid-March and Miriam was coming to London for the wedding of a very dear childhood friend over the weekend. She had managed to find an economical midday non-stop flight from Faro in the Algarve to London and Louisa had agreed to meet her and escort her back to their London home. The train ride out to the airport was lengthy, almost an hour, but it was really the most efficient way to get there. She could have driven the family car or taken a taxi, but one never knew what the traffic would be like and she really didn't want the hassle. Fortunately, Jemima their current nanny had agreed to stay with the children for the afternoon so she didn't have to drag them with her.

Miriam had agreed to come a few days early to help celebrate Robert's second birthday with the family on Friday, and Louisa was excited to have her mother share in their festivities. She sighed with the thought that Miriam would never agree to visit England in March were it not for this old friend's wedding and she felt sorry for Robert that he might never have his grandmother visit to celebrate his birthday ever again. It made her think that if they had another child, they should time it so that its birthday would be in the summer. Of course, that was sheer fantasy; she and Martin had never been able to time the conception of either of their first two children, why should she think they could schedule the third.

Funny, she mused, how you think of odd things like that when sitting in an arrivals lounge with all the world milling around you. True she and Martin had decided to just let nature take its course from now on; they were both "geriatrics", a term Martin still let slip from time to time, and it was getting less and less likely that they could conceive another child, but they were hopeful that perhaps in the next year or so they would achieve success. She wasn't entirely certain that Martin wanted another child no matter how genuinely he had agreed to try for a daughter. She knew that the chaos into which their home sometimes descended could try his patience, occasionally spilling over into a rant against the noise and the clutter. A third child would definitely add to the pandemonium. But, as she sat there thinking about it, he was obviously not opposed to another child , of that she was certain. If he were, he might be reluctant to engage in physical intimacy, and he was still as ardent a lover as he had always been, so she felt confident that he was open to another child.

She looked up at the arrivals board and saw that her mother's plane had landed. She closed her book; she had barely glanced at it; and she rose from her seat and walked over to the hallway where passengers departed the secure area. She hoped her mother had travelled light; waiting at baggage claim and lugging a heavy bag would not be easy on the train. She herself flew from this airport every February when she made her annual visit to her mother, but Martin always drove them and helped with the luggage. Travel was always so much easier when he was with them.

"Louisa!" She must have been daydreaming because, before she realised it, her mother was just a few feet away waving frantically. "Help me with my bags, will you." She had a large tote from which wrapped presents were on the verge of tumbling out and her purse, bulging with whatever she had stuffed in it, was slung over her shoulder, but she didn't have any luggage. " _Great_ ", Louisa thought. "S _eems like we'll be headed to baggage claim after all."_.

Louisa took the overflowing tote from her hands and sighed, "Okay, let's head to baggage claim."

Miriam laughed, "No need. She nodded over to a middle-aged man walking next to her, "My friend, Marcus here agreed to help me with my bag."

Louisa smiled at the man walking just a step behind her mother and then exclaimed, "Mum, you should have checked your bag. How did you ever manage to get them to let you carry all that on the plane?"

"Marcus agreed to carry on the tote as if it were his." She stopped and introduced them, "Louisa this is Marcus; I met him when we were checking in and he has been an angel. Marcus, this is my daughter Louisa. She can help me from here on. It was so nice of you to help."

Miriam shot him a dazzling smile and he leaned in to give her a kiss on each cheek, "Always happy to help a beautiful lady. Don't forget to call me if you have a free evening while you are visiting." With that he left them to amble towards baggage claim to pick up his own bags which he had wisely checked.

Louisa rolled her eyes. That was so like her mother, always flirting with any man who might come in handy. None of them ever seemed to mind though. Louisa had always felt the need to assert her self-sufficiency and had never felt comfortable playing the helpless female; but her mum, one of the strongest and most able-bodied women she knew, seemed to enjoy the attention she drew from these men. How different she and her mother were from one another.

Louisa stopped for a moment to rearrange the packages in her mother tote, returned it to her, picked up the handle of the carry-on, and led them to the bus that would connect them to the train station. By the time the taxi from the train station dropped them off at the Ellingham home, it was nearly four o'clock. Miriam grabbed the house keys from Louisa's hand, and whilst Louisa struggled to carry her mother's bag up the steps and into the foyer, Miriam ran in and shouted out, "James, Robert, Mimi's here. Come give me a kiss."

The boys came running and in moments Miriam was making a fuss over them. They had just seen her the month before when they visited her in Portugal, but you would have thought it had been years. She pulled out some special sweets that she had packed in her bag and handed them to the boys. Louisa immediately swooped in and gathered them up with an admonishment, "After dinner. Daddy will be home in an hour. We will have dinner and then you can have some of Mimi's sweets."

xxxxx

The two days since her mother's arrival had been full of shopping and cooking and now all the celebrating was over; Ruth, who had joined them as she always did, had headed home; the children were in bed; and Louisa's mum had retired for the night. Louisa and Martin were seated on the couch as they were almost every night before bed, just the two of them sharing their thoughts with their usual evening cup of tea, just the two of them plus Miss Lizbeth, of course, who was snuggled in deep slumber on Louisa's lap as she was most every evening. Her mother would be busy all the next day with her friend's wedding leaving the Ellinghams to their usual weekend routine, Saturday morning shopping, a visit to their favorite local play ground sometime in the afternoon, and a simple supper in the evening. Sunday would be a relaxing day as well with Martin preparing a special breakfast, and a trip to the airport to see Miriam off and where the boys could watch the airplanes take off and land. They hoped to enjoy a picnic outing in the afternoon since the weather was forecast to be mild.

"Do you think Robert enjoyed his birthday?" Louisa cradled her mug in her hands, lifting it close to inhale the warm steam emanating from the brew.

"He certainly seemed to enjoy the cake." Martin said with just the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Why do you insist on giving our children food with so little nutritional value?"

Louisa stared at him, "Do you really want to have this argument … again …. tonight? I prepared a very healthy meal before we had the cake."

It had been a long day and they had had this argument many times before, essentially on every birthday they had celebrated since their marriage. Why couldn't Martin just give it a rest? She had told him many times over that cake was traditional on birthdays and that their family was going to uphold the tradition as long as she was in charge of the celebrations. Plus, she was in no mood for this argument; she was tired. She was still teaching three mornings a week and this Friday morning she had had to get to school earlier than usual for a parent conference. After her last class was over at one pm, she rushed to the market to pick up some chicken and vegetables to make Robert his favourite meal, sautéed chicken fingers with broccoli and cauliflower trees with peas and cut up carrots.

She had decorated the kitchen table with a toy train surrounded by colourful streamers and balloons and had set out special train decorated paper plates and napkins. Robert loved trains and she saw no reason not to indulge his obsession on his birthday, especially now that he was old enough to understand that his birthday was special. Even the few presents they had given him were train centred. He loved Ruth's present the best. It was a riding toy shaped like a train engine. He jumped on it and rode it around the house until it was time for bed. Fortunately it was designed to be ridden both indoors and out; the wheels wouldn't damage their hardwood floors or they would have had to consign it strictly to outdoor playtime. She knew that Martin would prefer that its play be limited to outdoors, but for today, he kept that to himself.

She noticed that Martin appeared remorseful as he said, "Yes, the meal was delicious, and was of optimal nutritional value." She chuckled inwardly at one of his favourite phrases and outwardly smiled, "Thank you Martin."

"James did well preparing the cheese toasts. "

"Yes, he is becoming quite the little chef. I don't know if he told you but he let Robert add the currents for the eyes." Both Martin and Louisa had been encouraging James in some elementary cooking skills. She had bought a package of cookie cutters in the shapes of various animals the previous summer which intrigued James, and she suggested that he could use them to cut out the bread for their meal. "I was slicing the bread when James asked if he could cut it into a cat shape and make the bread look like Lizzie. He was very careful to cut the bread just so and then add the cheese. When Robert saw him working, he wanted to help and that is when James showed him where to put the currents for the eyes and nose. When they were done, James grinned and said, "See Mummy, they are just like Lizzie." Robert grinned and echoed his remarks, "Just like Lizzie!"

Louisa was surprised at Martin's reaction as he sat staring down at the tea mug cradled in his hands, his face stony with a sombre expression. After a very long minute of silence, she asked, "Martin? Are you okay?"

He startled, "What?"

"You were awfully quiet. I think it was fine to let James use the cutters to make the toasts. Were you worried about that?"

He sighed and turned his gaze toward her, 'No. That's fine. That's good. I was just thinking how nice it is that James and Robert have each other. "

She reached over to grasp his hand and lace her fingers with his, "Yes they are lucky." She gave him a loving smile, "And we are lucky to have two very fine children, aren't we?"

He put his teacup down on the table and put his arm around her shoulder, "Yes we are."

She reached over and gave him a kiss on his cheek and snuggled into his side. Lizzie resettled herself, sprawling across both their laps, and they sat in companionable silence for a few moments listening to the soothing orchestral music that was playing in the background. Louisa absently ran her fingers in circles across Martin's shirt, slipping her fingers under the buttons, and then changed the subject, "How was your day?"

"Routine." He paused, "Until I arrived home, of course. How was yours."

She reached for her tea and sat up, taking a sip and then rested her head against the back of the sofa. "Busy. I met with Robin Skyler and her parents this morning before school. We developed a tutoring plan for her to catch up on the topics she missed whilst in hospital this past month."

"This is one of your students? What was wrong with her?"

"I told you about her a few weeks ago. She caught measles and had complications. It took more than a week in hospital for her pneumonia to clear up. She was on iv antibiotics and oxygen. It was pretty bad. Then another two weeks of bed rest at home. Needless to say, she has a lot of catching up to do."

"Yes, I remember now. I assume she hadn't had the MMR jab?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Why do parents think it acceptable not to vaccinate their children? It would prevent this ghastly disease."

"Some of them think the vaccine is dangerous. There _have_ been studies linking vaccines to autism you know. "

"Studies which have been debunked." Martin stated definitively. "Will that misinformation never die?" He let out a loud sigh.

"What? What is it?" He had a curious look on his face and she knew he had something else on his mind.

"Oh. I was just remembering a discussion I had with you in my dream about this very same thing."

"Really?" She was always surprised when he would reveal something from his dream. There was no way of knowing what would trigger a memory for him, but she loved when he shared those memories with her and she put her mug down so she could give him a hug.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Hmm …" He tilted his head down to give her forehead a light kiss. "Nothing much to tell. Pretty much the same things we just now said. The parents of one of your new students had refused to vaccinate their child. These people were horrible … the boy ended up with tuberculosis." Martin looked down at his lap, stroking Lizzie's head lightly, and then added, "They burned a badger in their yard."

"They burned a badger?"

"Yes, the wife was giving it a proper Hindu burial."

Louisa laughed out loud. "You certainly have a vivid imagination, Mr. Ellingham."

She reached up to kiss him tenderly on the lips. "You know I love when you share your dream memories."

"Mm" He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers and then worked those fingers through her hair to wrap his palm around her head as he returned her kiss, gently at first, and then drawing her closer deepening the kiss.

As he pulled away from the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers while trailing his fingers across her jaw and down her shoulder, "Would you like to dance before we retire this evening?"

As was his custom each evening before they sat down to their tea, Martin had turned on some soft classical music. His taste tended to classical or jazz, while she was partial to show tunes and soft rock. Tonight, he had selected some instrumental show tunes with classical overtones perfect for dancing. She had observed over the years that he would select danceable tunes on the evenings when he was feeling romantic. This evening he had been staring at her often and more tenderly than usual, and she hoped that the evening would turn out this way. She gave him a softly seductive smile. "Of course. I would love to dance with you tonight."

She picked up Lizzie and placed her very gently on the sofa, giving her a slight nuzzle just to assure her that she was still loved before turning to Martin. He took her hand and led her to the area in their lounge that they kept clear for the boys to play and for themselves to dance. She looked up at him with a gentle welcoming smile as he took her in his arms and led her in a slow waltz.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

For Margaret, life during the previous year passed much as it always had since their move to Portugal after Christopher's retirement all those years ago. There was the daily routine of leisurely mornings followed by errands and afternoon 'tea' with her friends, and dinner at the club most nights of the week with their close circle of friends. There were breaks in the routine of course, the seasonal society fundraisers in which she was instrumental, their annual holiday party, and the early summer picnic that they hosted every year. Life was full and pleasant. Only the occasional medical crisis of one of her friends or acquaintances broke through her sense of well-being. Christopher himself had had a momentary health scare in late autumn when he experienced a TIA, transitory ischemic attack. It was an isolated event; his primary physician ran some tests and said there was nothing to indicate that he was at risk for another. Margaret wanted to return to London for further tests, but Christopher had examined the test results himself and was satisfied that nothing was amiss.

Margaret had even made her peace with her friends' obsession over their grandchildren. It was only when Miriam pulled out new photos or regaled her with anecdotes regarding the Ellingham children's accomplishments or cute bon mots did she still feel remnants of melancholy. Louisa came for her annual visit with her mother in February, but Margaret was not able to catch sight of her or the children despite finding excuses to wander the shops near Miriam's salon or to drive past her home. She refused to admit that she had any desire to see the children, but she was disappointed at her failure to encounter them, nonetheless.

The week before Miriam was scheduled to make her annual summer trip to England, she greeted Margaret with an announcement as soon as she sat down at the sink for her shampoo, "Guess what? Louisa is pregnant again."

Margaret had always been astonished that Martin had two children, but three? Actually, she had been astounded to learn that he had married and had one child, but three? She would never have thought he was that fond of children. She was tongue-tied for a few moments as she regarded Miriam with a stunned expression.

Miriam laughed at her reaction, "Yeah, I know. Quite a surprise, i'nit?"

Margaret put her hand to her chest to compose herself and muttered," Yes!" In another moment, after she had settled in the chair, she raised her eyebrows and with a wry expression, replied still somewhat stunned, "Another child? What is wrong with her husband? Can't he keep it in his pants? They are going to have their hands full."

Miriam responded, "I'm pretty sure they wanted another child. Louisa tells me they are hoping for a girl this time."

"And what if it's not a girl? Will they have a fourth? "

"No. Louisa told me that Martin has said this is the last even if it's another boy."

"How does she feel about that?"

"I think she's okay with it. She turned forty-one last birthday, so she's lucky to have this one … not sure they have time for another."

"I guess it just proves that he does occasionally touch her." Margaret couldn't help responding in an openly sarcastic tone.

Miriam stopped her work and gave Margaret a funny look.

"You once said that if it weren't for those children, you might think he never touched her."

"Ahh, I did say that. And it's true, he hates public displays of affection. But he can be quite romantic. I've seen him in action a few times over the years. Just this spring, for instance, when I went to London for my friend Melinda's wedding and Robert's birthday, I happened to see them one evening when they thought everyone had gone to bed. I had left my magazine down in the lounge and I started down the stairs to get it when I saw the two of them snogging on the couch. Of course, I didn't interrupt them, and I probably should have turned right back around and left them to it, but I have to admit I was curious. After a minute or two, Martin stood up and gave Louisa his hand. I thought they were about to head up the stairs so I started to creep back up so they wouldn't see me."

Miriam stopped her tale to concentrate on her work. When she finally finished the shampoo, and they started to walk over to Miriam's station, Margaret sat down and sniffed, "Is there anything more to the story or not?"

"Oh yeah. They didn't head to the stairs. Instead, they started dancing. Can you believe it? First there was a slow waltz and then a faster number where Martin would swing Louisa out and back. They seemed to be having quite a good time. I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. Finally, he pulled her back after letting her twirl for a few times, and she was laughing when he pulled her close and started kissing her. That's when I snuck back up the stairs to my room. I was pretty sure they were headed up to their room after that, and I didn't want to be caught spying on them. Sure enough, I heard them walk up the stairs and go into the boys' room just after I closed my door. They always check on the children before going to bed in the evening. Then I heard them go into their room and close the door. Who knows? Baby is due in early December. Maybe this new little one was conceived that night!"

Miriam laughed out loud again.

Margaret really had little to say about the matter and felt herself flushing trying not to imagine what had gone on in that bedroom that night. She was quiet for most of the rest of her visit. She thanked Miriam and left her a good tip as usual and walked to the door. It was raining fairly hard and Margaret was forced to open her umbrella before stepping out. She made her way to the car and slipped in behind the wheel where she sat and contemplated the news in the privacy of her own car. When the new baby came, she would have three grandchildren. None of her friends had more than two. If she and Christopher were to reconcile with Martin, she would be able to pull out pictures of three children. What a fuss her friends would make of them! She closed her eyes and laid her head against the steering wheel of the car. "Oh Persephone, life is so unfair, and it's all Christopher's fault." She slammed her palm against the steering wheel. "Why was it so important that Martin join the navy?"

She turned on the ignition and pulled out into the traffic to drive back to their villa. She was still stunned and thought that she might have to cancel meeting her friends at the club that afternoon. She was almost home when she took a curve just a little too fast and skidded into a tree. The passenger side of her car was severely damaged and there was a lot of broken glass. Margaret found herself pinned against her seat by the airbag that had discharged immediately upon impact, and before she knew it, several passers-by had opened her door and were pulling her out of the car. Someone had called an ambulance and soon she was on a stretcher in the ambulance headed to hospital. It all happened so fast. She wanted to tell them that she was fine. There was no need to take her to hospital, but then she raised her hand to brush aside a lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes and she saw the blood. Now she was confused; where did the blood come from? She suddenly felt quite woozy and she closed her eyes hoping to regain her composure. Everything went black.

When she woke in the local hospital A&E unit, there was a young nurse sitting next to her, "Ahh. Mrs. Ellingham, we have called your husband and he will be here in a few minutes. You have quite a few cuts and some significant bruising, but we don't think there are any broken bones. Really you are quite lucky. Things could have been much worse."

She closed her eyes and tried to gather her wits. She must have had an accident, that much was obvious and now she was in hospital. Perhaps the nurse could tell her more. "What happened?"

"Oh dear." The nurse reached out and held her hand responding in good, but heavily accented, English, "You had an accident Mrs. Ellingham, in your car. But as I said, you should be fine."

"Persephone ... Persephone, how is she? Was there much damage?"

"I'm sorry Mrs. Ellingham. Was there someone else in the car?"

Margaret shook her head in annoyance and clutched it as pain shot through the right side of her skull. "No, no. Persephone is my car. Was she badly damaged?"

The nurse gave her a funny look, "I don't know. You will have to ask your husband."

Just then Christopher found his way to her bedside and looked at her critically. "Well, you've made a fine mess of things. Your car is totalled. You could have been killed in that death trap … piece of junk." He reached for the chart at the end of her cot after nodding to the nurse, "Christopher Ellingham, Margaret's husband."

Margaret opened her eyes into a squint and peered at him. "Good evening Christopher."

"Yes, yes," he replied absently as he scanned the notes contained in the chart. "Looks like you will be fine. I see that they plan to do some x-rays, but that appears just to be a precautionary measure. I'll go chase up whoever is in charge, see when you can be discharged." He slipped the chart back into its sleeve and walked off to the nurses' station in search of the attending physician.

"Wait … Christopher."

He stopped and turned back, "What is it?"

"What did you say about my car? Is Persephone gone?"

"Of course, your car is gone, completely beyond repair. You're lucky you weren't killed in that flimsy excuse for a car. It was a wreck waiting to happen. I should have put my foot down as soon as you brought it home. We will have to get you a new car, something more substantial."

Margaret started to sob uncontrollably, crying out, "Persephone, Persephone. God how I loved that car."

Christopher shook his head in disgust, "Good God Margaret. Pull yourself together. You're embarrassing yourself." With that he went off to hunt for her doctor.

When he returned with Margaret's doctor, Christopher was all smiles, joking with the emergency room medic who was saying, "Very interesting indeed. Let's see to your wife, shall we?" And he reached for her chart to review his notes.

"Good evening Mrs. Ellingham. Good to see you are awake. We were concerned you might be concussed. I'd like to make a few quick checks." With that he leaned over her and shone a torch into her eyes making her squint. He then reached for her wrist to check her pulse, and continued with a few other routine checks. "All your vital signs seem to be within normal parameters. We'd like to send you to x-ray to check for any broken bones, standard procedure for an automobile accident victim. Then we will keep you overnight, possibly two to rule out any internal injuries."

She had managed to recover from her shock at the loss of her car, and she stared up at the young doctor, noticing his name, and as she toyed with the top button of her blouse, she purred "Can't I just go home Doctor Carvalho? My husband is a doctor. He could keep an eye on me and bring me back if something is amiss." She gave him one of her most beguiling looks, one that she had found over the years men could rarely resist.

Doctor Carvalho gave her an indulgent smile and glanced sceptically over at Christopher who was nodding his head in agreement with Margaret. He replied, "I understand your desire to return home and put this behind you, but internal injuries can be slow to reveal themselves and I would be guilty of neglect if I were to discharge you before ascertaining that you had no hidden injuries that could cause serious harm. Please understand that we must keep you in hospital for observation for at least one night. We will see how you are faring tomorrow. I am certain that Doctor Ellingham would concur. In the meantime, he can return home and check on you in the morning."

Christopher piped up, "It's Mr. Ellingham, I'm a surgeon."

Margaret could tell that Doctor Carvalho was not impressed with Christopher's hearty bonhomie and he replied with a curt, "I see. Let me arrange to have you admitted and write an order for x-ray." He strode off towards his office leaving Christopher feeling slighted.

"Something of a prat, isn't he?"

Margaret replied, "I think he's quite nice. Although, I do wish I could go home. "

Christopher grunted, "Well … there's nothing more I can do here. It's obvious I'm not needed." He looked her over quickly just to assure himself that there was nothing further to be done and stepped back from the bed. "I'll call tomorrow and find out when you will be discharged."

"Very well," Margaret looked down at her blouse where she had been worrying the button with her fingers, and she realised that it was covered with blood. "Oh my." She shuddered in disgust and demanded of the nurse a cloth to clean her hands. Turning to her husband, she commanded, "You are going to have to bring me something presentable to wear tomorrow. Perhaps my rose-coloured sweater and some dark slacks. They will be hanging in my wardrobe. Some clean undergarments as well and a pair of sandals."

It was late in the afternoon the next day when they called Christopher to return to retrieve his wife. He had packed up a bag for her with the requested garments and some toiletries which he set down near her bed so she could change out of her hospital gown.

They drove home in silence. It wasn't unusual for them to spend their time together in silence; they had nothing new to share after all the years they had been together, but for some reason Margaret felt a chill in the air. Despite the hospital's assessment that she had no significant injuries, she was very sore with multiple bruises and achy muscles, and he helped her in the short walk from the car to the front door of their villa. As soon as they closed the door, as she turned to go to her bedroom, he asked in a quiet deadly voice, "Who is James Henry Ellingham?"

She started, flinching as she realized that her secret had been revealed. How could she have forgotten about James' picture in her wardrobe? Even though she looked at it fondly almost every day, it had become part of her wardrobe. She hadn't thought how it was there and that Christopher would see it when he gathered her clothes. She turned to face him and saw that he was holding James' picture in his hands. She was caught. There was no talking her way out of this deception. Best to steel herself and go with the truth. "He is Martin's son."

Confusion flickered for a moment behind Christopher's eyes as he refused to absorb her news and he responded, "Martin's son? Martin … who?"

She stared at him boldly, daring him to feign ignorance.

"Who do you think?"

"Martin …. our son, Martin?"

"Yes."

Now that he fully grasped what she was saying, he bellowed at her, "Our son Martin has a child?"

"Yes."

"And you never thought to tell me."

"In truth Christopher, I didn't think you would be interested." Margaret replied with distain.

"And why is that?" He sneered.

"Didn't you wash your hands of him years ago. We haven't spoken with him since. Would his having a child make any difference?"

"That's beside the point!" he shouted.

"Really." Margaret huffed. This discussion was going nowhere and she didn't feel up to it after spending the night in hospital. She turned to go into the bedroom.

He ran after her and grabbed her arm. "We're not finished. How did you get this picture? You've obviously met the boy. Have you met his mother as well?"

"Yes. I know his other grandmother. We were working on something together a few years ago and James happened to be visiting while I was there. He gave me the picture. I met his mother at the same time."

Christopher was overwhelmed that Margaret had known of this child for several years and had kept the information from him. He ran his fingers through his hair and wandered over to one of the overstuffed chairs nearby and sat down.

"Do you want to tell me what else you know about Martin and this boy?"

Margaret sighed. She knew he wouldn't be happy with all she knew. It didn't make her happy. But he asked. She might as well tell him everything. Shock him with the details. She sat down rubbing her temple, which was still throbbing from her accident, as she contemplated where to begin. "I suppose you know that Martin is head of a surgical department at one of the major hospitals in London … Imperial, I believe."

"Yes, yes. I know that. Was made Head of Vascular a number of years ago. I do keep up with the surgical news back in London," Christopher was impatient. "Is he married? Or is this child the result of some unfortunate affair?"

"Martin is married, living in London with two children. James is six and Robert is two. He and his wife are expecting their third in December."

"Three children? Martin?" Christopher started to laugh. "Are you certain you have your facts straight?" He was incredulous. "What woman would marry him? She must have been desperate … and ugly as a cow."

"No. I have met Louisa … only briefly. She is a beautiful woman and seems quite intelligent."

"There must be something wrong with her to want to marry Martin."

"Oh, Christopher. Be realistic. I agree that he is not the most handsome or amiable of men, but he does have other qualities that are attractive to women. Think about it. He is highly respected, at the top of his profession, well compensated and able to provide well for his family. That alone would be more than enough for many women to overlook his challenging temperament. But I don't think that is the entire attraction for Louisa. From what her mother tells me, he is a miserable human being to most of the world, but to Louisa he is a very attentive and loving husband, and she adores him."

"So, you know her mother. She lives here in Portugal?"

"Yes."

"Do I know her?"

"No, she doesn't socialise in our circle." Margaret knew there was no need to tell Christopher about Miriam. He seemed satisfied with her answer. She had many acquaintances in various walks of life who were affiliated with her charity work. She hoped that he would assume she was one of them.

"Humph …" He sank deeper into his chair and seemed to be lost in thought. A moment later, she heard the sound of the television remote and an announcer commenting on some golf tournament. That was her cue that this confrontation was over, and she rose from her chair and silently slipped into the bedroom and closed the door.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Louisa woke to the sound of water running in the shower behind the closed door of their en-suite bathroom. She had had a difficult night. With only five weeks until the baby's due date, finding a comfortable position in which to sleep was challenging pretty much every night, but she must have settled in an awkward position the previous night because her back was aching and it was all she could do to turn her head to see that the clock registered 5:30. Martin was always an early riser, but 5:30 was early even for him. He had had a difficult night as well, tossing and turning all night long. She knew it was due to his anxiety about seeing his parents for the first time in over 15 years.

The evening before, when he had arrived home, he was quiet, lost in thought. As Robert did every evening, he ran to the door as soon as he heard Martin turn the key in the lock, gaily laughing, lifting his arms, and shouting "Daddy, Daddy."

"Good evening, Robert," Martin set down his case and picked him up sliding his palm across the top of his blond head and down to his cheek where he let his fingers rest for a moment before carrying him into the lounge and depositing him next to his brother on the floor. "Daddy, me and James are building a castle."

"It's _James and_ _I_ are building a castle, Robert," he replied in a vain attempt to correct his young son's grammar.

He reached over to James who was intent on placing the next block carefully on the turret he was building, and he leaned over and gently tousled James' hair, "Good evening James."

"Hi Daddy. Will you help with the castle? I want to construct another turret before bedtime."

"Not tonight James. I have some work to do." He returned to the foyer and picked up his bag. Louisa followed him and wrapped her arms around him, "Rough day?"

"Mmm …. yes. Later?" He kissed her, after which he headed straight for his study, closing the door behind him. This type of behaviour wasn't all that unusual if he had had a challenging procedure or if he had lost a patient. It happened occasionally, and she had learned to give him some time and space at these evenings, explaining to the boys that Daddy needed to finish some work before he could play with them.

They had a quiet dinner and after the boys were in bed, and the two of them were seated on the couch with their evening cuppa, he confided what it was that had him under such a strain. "My parents are in town. My father has severe atherosclerosis and his doctor in Portugal has sent them to consult with me with respect to his treatment. I spoke with his doctor by phone this morning."

She immediately understood Martin's anxiety. It had taken several years of therapy before and after their marriage for him to find peace with his upbringing, his parents' nearly complete disinterest in him and their eventual estrangement. She sensed fear for him, knowing that all the hurt and bitterness could return in an instant once they reappeared into his and their lives. She wondered, "Can you do that? Treat your father, I mean?"

"No. It's not illegal, but it is ethically unsound. And in my case, with our long-standing estrangement, I could be held liable if anything should go wrong. I won't treat him. I will have Brendall treat him and I will monitor his condition closely."

"Jake?"

"Yes."

She liked Jake Brendall, one of Martin's former students whom she had first met at the Parsons' Boxing Day party all those years ago in Cornwall shortly after she had met Martin. When they had an opening in Martin's department several years ago, Jake had applied and Martin had brought him on board. Louisa had reconnected with him shortly afterwards at one of the annual holiday parties, and he and his wife had joined them at dinner in their home a few times when the Parsons were in town.

"Is he capable enough?"

"Of course. I wouldn't have hired him if he weren't. I have complete confidence in his skills."

She put her tea cup down on the table and reached for his hand, "What time is their appointment?"

He wrapped his fingers around hers and replied, "One. I had Morwenna fit them in before afternoon consultations."

"I will try to send good thoughts your way then."

"Mmm …" He pursed his lips. She knew he didn't believe in the power of positive thoughts, "no scientific basis for their efficacy" he once told her. However, she felt that knowing someone was thinking of you had a power to soothe even if the actual thoughts had no effect.

"Remember that I love you. The boys love you. Your parents can't take our love from you no matter what they say to you or how they behave." She reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

He took a final sip of his tea and placed his cup on the table next to hers and then took her in his arms and buried his face in her neck, murmuring, "I won't forget."

They sat there for maybe a full minute or two, just holding each other, and when he raised his head, he searched out her lips, kissing her tenderly. He gazed into her eyes and whispered, "I'm grateful you're here."

"Oh Martin, I will always be here," she replied and kissed him back just as tenderly … at first. Gradually tenderness gave way to passion as it frequently did and when they came up for air, she whispered, "Upstairs?"

"In a minute", Martin whispered back as he reached up to release her hair from its ponytail so that it fell over her shoulders. She smiled at him seductively as he brushed the loose strands off her neck, tickling the sensitive area under her ears. He ventured lower to caress her breasts lifting them appreciatively after which he continued a downward path, sliding his palm across her swollen belly. Moments later, the baby started kicking. Martin smiled and spread his hand wide on her tummy, relishing the vigour of his unborn child, "Strong kicks".

She started to laugh, "Seems like someone isn't enjoying our intimacy as much as we are. Perhaps it's time to call it a night."

Ignoring her suggestion for the moment, he continued to stare at her stomach, entranced with the movements of the baby, "Do you think it's another boy?"

She tilted her head, "I don't know. Why would you ask that? Did you see something on the last scan?"

"Noooo … I purposely didn't look. It's just that the baby seems so strong."

"Baby girls can be just as strong as baby boys." Louisa defended her gender adamantly.

Martin looked up into her eyes. He knew he had overstepped some boundary, she could tell. "Yes, I know that. I was just wondering."

She leaned back away from him and answered him sceptically, "Right."

"I am allowed to wonder." He defended himself staunchly.

She started to chuckle at his retort. "Yes, you are, and I am glad that you do." She pulled his head towards her and kissed him affectionately.

Martin returned the kiss with passion and then leered at her, raising that eyebrow of his with a look that told her he had one thing on his mind, "I believe you said something about 'upstairs'."

She leered back at him, raising her own eyebrows, and replied, "I did."

He wrapped his arms about her and kissed her again, "Right," he declared. "Upstairs it is!"

She grinned in agreement, "Sounds like a plan." Her tone was light and playful, and she was as eager to continue their interaction as he, but she hoped she could provide him more than physical pleasure. She could see more in his look tonight than lust; there was an undercurrent of need in his eyes. He needed her tonight; he needed the emotional healing that sexual intimacy could provide, and she hoped to bestow that comfort, to give him the strength he needed to face his parents the next day.

Martin helped her up from the couch and they made their way up the stairs and into the bedroom where they did indeed execute a tender and loving coupling despite the challenges inherent with late stage pregnancy and despite the frequent kicks of protestation from their little one.

She had hoped that the exertion of their amorous activities the previous night would ease the anxiety he was harbouring about facing his parents and help him to sleep well, but he had been restless all night and now he was dressing for the day.

She rolled out of bed and shuffled over to his side wrapping her arms around his waist, "Good morning. You're up early."

He returned her hug, "Yes, couldn't sleep. You should go back to bed. You need your rest. I'll wake you before I leave so you can get the boys ready for school."

She shook her head, "I couldn't sleep very well either. I must have slept funny; my back is really bothering me. I think I'll take a shower. Maybe the warm water will make me feel better."

She could feel his eyes on her as she walked into the shower. He wasn't happy that she had continued to teach this last term, but her schedule was light to begin with as she only taught classes every other day. She really enjoyed teaching and felt that she was making a difference in the lives of her students. Her due date was only a week before the holiday break, and she had already arranged a supply teacher to take over her classes for the last three weeks of term in case the baby decided to come early.

James was in school full time now and Robert was in a preschool class two mornings a week. They had a great nanny, Emily who was a student at university majoring in early childhood education, as all their nanny's were. She took care of the boys' needs on the days when Louisa taught and watched Robert on the days when he wasn't in school. Louisa usually took the boys to school in the morning and Emily picked up Robert and fed him lunch on the days he was in school even if Louisa was at home those days. She was very competent and Louisa had total confidence in her ability to care for their children.

"Perhaps I should call … um … Emma and ask her to take the boys to school this morning if you're not feeling well."

"Emily. Her name is Emily. I'll call her if I'm still achy after my shower."

The shower did help her back and she dressed and met Martin in the kitchen where he was reading the morning paper as he finished his breakfast. He looked up from the paper, "How are you feeling?"

"Better, but I'm glad today is an off day. I think I will call Emily to see if she's free to take the boys to school. I'll use the heating pad while I am doing my planning this morning to help my back relax.

Martin pulled back from the table and neatly folded the newspaper, and then he rose and stepped to her side, placing a hand on her belly, "Any twinges or Braxton-Hicks sensations this morning?"

"Martin, I'm fine. I just slept wrong. We still have more than four weeks till my due date, although …"

"What?" He was palpating her uterus, a thoughtful expression on his face, searching for she didn't know what, given that he wasn't an OB.

She screwed up her mouth in a wry smile, "We may have to curtail any more activity like last night for a while."

He quickly looked up at her in alarm, "Did I hurt you?"

"Nooo …. I quite enjoyed it. You know I always do."

"I tried to be gentle." His face softened into that look of loving concern which melted her heart every time.

"And you were. You were quite lovely." She could have added that knowing your husband still desires you when you are heavily pregnant does wonders for a girl's self-esteem at a time when she is feeling extremely awkward and unattractive.

He reddened, always embarrassed when she praised his lovemaking even though she knew he was pleased that she appreciated his attentions, and she wrapped her arms around him in a gentle embrace. "I cherish our intimate moments. I always have from the very first time, but it _is_ getting close to term. I'll ask Phyllis about it when I go in tomorrow."

"Is that really necessary? She doesn't need to know about … ahem … our intimate activities, does she?"

"Martin, she _is_ my doctor; and given my condition, I think she already has some clue about our engaging in 'intimate activities'".

"Humph." He straightened up, took his used dishes to the sink and headed towards his study to gather his case. "I have several procedures scheduled this morning before consultations. I must be going."

She managed to catch him just before he opened the door to leave, wrapping her arms around his neck to look him in the eye and remind him in all seriousness, "Don't forget I love you …. We love you … very much. And I will be thinking of you when you meet with your parents after lunch."

He tucked his chin into his neck with a quick, 'Yes.' And then he placed a hand on her stomach, "You are quite certain that you are alright? You will call me if the pain in your back doesn't abate?"

"Yes Martin. I will." They shared a quick kiss good-bye and he trotted down the front steps and headed down the pavement towards the hospital.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Martin entered the examination room tentatively. Margaret observed that he appeared just as awkward and strange as he did when he was a little boy. His shoulders were hunched and he had a scowl on his face as he peered at them over the patient file he held close to his chest. He closed the door, then stood in silence as he inspected them, looking from one to the other. "Mum, Dad. Good afternoon."

Christopher was seated on the examination table. Margaret knew he was uncomfortable, facing his estranged son for the first time in years. He was undoubtedly embarrassed as well, and feeling exposed, clothed only in a hospital gown; and to cover his sense of vulnerability, he became aggressive speaking up immediately, irritation obvious in his voice, "Yes. Good afternoon. Let's cut to the chase. Have you had a chance to look over the notes that my specialist sent from Portugal?"

When Christopher had agreed to consult with Martin, Margaret saw the opportunity, if not to reconcile, at least to reconnect with their son. As she packed their bags and made arrangements for the last-minute trip to London, she began to plot the best way to approach Martin so that he would forget the years of estrangement and acknowledge her as his mother … and the grandmother of his children. All she needed was an introduction to Louisa, and all would be well. All her years moving in the often venomous world of high society, as well as her frequent charity work with women in all walks of life, had given her the skills to establish a friendly rapport with nearly anyone. Winning over a simple, kind-hearted school teacher like Louisa would be no challenge at all. Margaret would show a sincere interest in her children and Louisa would be more than willing to send occasional photos and news of their accomplishments. That was all she really wanted, something to share with her friends, to be in the same club. She just needed the introduction.

Winning over Martin might be more arduous. She remembered how, as a child, he was always eager to please her. Despite their long-standing alienation, there was no reason to expect he would be less compliant now. It might take some time, but she would show him her kind and compassionate side, she would let him know how impressed she was with his accomplishments, and she would show a heartfelt interest in his family and their welfare. If all else failed, she would point out that time was short, that it was likely his father did not have much time left, and that she might follow soon after. It would be a kindness to let her back into his life. Yes, that should work, she had thought.

But now, with Christopher's belligerence, it appeared that the moment for reconciliation had passed. There were to be no pleasantries, no recognition of their special bond, no attempt to right the estrangement that had hung over their relationship for so long. Martin was to be just another specialist with whom they would consult with regard to Christopher's medical condition.

Martin replied to Christopher's question, his tone completely professional as he summarised his conversation with his Dad's Portuguese consultant, "Yes, I have read Dr. Fonseca's notes and I've spoken with him about your recent history of TIAs. He thinks your condition is extremely serious. Although he is experienced in treating your condition, he felt you would be more comfortable and might receive better care here in England. Hence your consultation today. Is that correct?"

Christopher glared at him, "Yes."

Martin nodded, "Very well. He said you would be bringing a CD of your scans?"

Margaret pulled the CD from her purse, "Here it is Martin. May I say, we are so grateful that you have squeezed your father into your busy schedule." She passed the CD to Martin, giving him her best smile in hopes he would accept her gesture of good will and look favourably upon her despite Christopher's blatant antipathy. She didn't expect affection after all these years, but a modicum of respect and benign acceptance would be welcome. If something happened to Christopher, he would be the only family she would have and she might need his help.

Things had been strained between her and Christopher since her accident in late June, when he had discovered James' picture in her wardrobe. He had yet to forgive her for keeping from him the existence of Martin's family, and he had been more testy than usual. She was certain that much of his irascibility was due to several TIAs he had experienced since then. Most of the time, his speech would be slurred or the muscles in his face would droop, but the symptoms rarely lasted more than a half-hour, two hours at the most. His doctor was keeping an eye on him, but Christopher wasn't terribly concerned … then he had his most recent attack.

He had just returned from a round of golf and was taking a shower when she heard a thud and bellowing coming from the shower room. She remembered the fear she felt when she went to check on him and found him on the floor unable to get up and shouting incoherently at her. She covered him with a towel and called for an ambulance. When the medics arrived fifteen minutes later, he had recovered some of his speech and was complaining that he couldn't see a bloody thing. He had completely recovered by the time he reached hospital, but the doctors had insisted he be admitted for observation and tests. That was when Dr. Fonseca had examined him and advised that he return to England for treatment, referring him to the highly respected vascular specialist, Martin Ellingham. Christopher spat out, "Good God man, isn't there someone else?"

The doctor replied, "Yes there are others, but he really is the best, works out of Imperial Hospital in London. I attended a seminar he gave here a few years ago. He is up on all the latest techniques. Do you have some specific problem with him?"

"Yes. He's my son."

Dr. Fonseca looked down at his patient's notes and stammered, "Oh … Of course, you have the same last name. I should have made the connection. Even so, I think you should consult with him. He cannot treat you of course, but he could oversee your care and make certain that you have the next best vascular specialist in London. And I do believe you would be happier with your care in England where the staff all speak your language and your expenses likely will be covered by your national health service."

Despite Christopher's resistance, Dr Fonseca finally convinced him of the necessity of developing a treatment plan within the next few days and by the time they had left his office, his assistant had scheduled an appointment with Martin's office in two days time. So here they were. She was hopeful that Martin would be able to cure him.

Martin put the CD she handed him into his laptop and pulled up the images. He spent five long minutes examining each image before he confirmed Dr. Fonseca's opinion. "These images do confirm advanced atherosclerosis in several of your major arteries. Your carotid has significant blockage, and there are blockages in your legs as well. Do you experience pain when you walk?"

Christopher snapped back at him, "Occasionally, yes."

Martin continued, "You don't need me to tell you how serious this condition is. I'm surprised your consultant didn't deem it necessary to treat you earlier." Martin walked over to the examination table, "Lie back so I can examine you."

Martin spent the next ten minutes giving his father a thorough examination. Margaret watched him closely, hoping to gauge his thoughts, but his expression never changed from one of serious concentration. He asked two or three pointed questions which Christopher answered with precision, knowing what it was that Martin was considering. When he finished, he summarised his findings, using many technical terms that Christopher would understand, but which were incomprehensible to Margaret. She was frustrated and asked that he explain to her what it was that he had found in terms she could understand. He gave her a very brief summary, telling her that Dad could explain it all further. He finished by confirming that ethically he could not treat his father, but that he would refer him to a competent colleague.

"I will, of course, monitor your care assiduously." He turned to Margaret, "Dad will be admitted today and in hospital for a week at a minimum. We will need to monitor his recovery carefully. It is likely that he will be in rehabilitation care for several weeks after that, perhaps longer. You may want to find a short-term flat to hire for the duration. I do not think you will be returning to Portugal before January at the earliest. The hospital has a list of available estate agents that can help you. My assistant, Ms. Newcross can refer you."

As he walked toward the door, he continued, "I will be back shortly with Mr. Brendall, who will be in charge of your care."

As he was about to open the door, there came a knock. He jerked the door open and snapped at his assistant, "What is it?"

"Sorry to disturb you Mr. Ellingham, but it's Mrs. Ellingham …"

Martin was out the door in a flash, slamming it shut behind him.

Christopher turned to Margaret, "Did you hear that? His wife calling him in the middle of consultations. What kind of woman is she? Doesn't she know better?"

Margaret glared at her husband in rebuke for his outburst. "I'm sure she must have a good reason for contacting him." She was fairly certain that Louisa would be at school working at this time of day. Plus, Louisa hadn't seemed like the sort to disturb her husband during the day for anything less than an emergency. She hoped nothing had happened to the children.

Less than ten minutes later, Martin entered the examination room along with a younger man. "Mum, Dad, this is Mr. Brendall." Turning to Jake, he continued, "Mr. Brendall, my mother and father, Margaret and Christopher Ellingham."

"Pleased to meet you." Jake Brendall nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Martin resumed his brief introduction, "Mr. Brendall is a highly competent vascular and surgical specialist. I have complete confidence in his ability to manage your care. I will of course supervise your progress closely myself as well. I have briefed him on your condition and the results of my examination. He will undoubtedly want to perform his own checks to confirm my evaluation. Now if you will excuse me, I have an emergency I must attend."

Martin turned to open the door, and Brendall followed him out to the corridor. Margaret moved closer to the open door and strained to catch bits of their conversation.

Brendall, "Good luck. I hope all goes well."

Martin, "Mmm … Yes."

Brendall, ""Give Louisa my best."

That last comment confirmed Margaret's fears that something was wrong with the pregnancy. She wanted to ask but knew that it was inappropriate, and she scuttled back to her chair as he returned to the examination room.

"So Mr. Ellingham, let's see what we can do for you."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

After Martin left for hospital, Louisa woke the boys and, with Emily's help, got them off to their respective schools. She prepared a cup of tea and some toast and sat down at the kitchen table to relax for a minute with the morning paper before moving to her desk to take up her marking. As she began to sort through her students' papers, she found herself gazing over to the corner where Lizzie's bed always sat and felt a twinge of loneliness for the company of her faithful calico. Lizzie would often jump on her lap whilst she was working and she missed her familiar presence.

It had been only three months since Lizzie had suffered a sudden decline. She was drinking more than usual, but had stopped eating, and was losing weight rapidly. They knew something was wrong. When they took her to the vet, he advised that Lizzie was suffering from advanced kidney disease and was likely in pain. They could try administrating subcutaneous fluids, but at best it would give her only another month or two, and he advised that the time had come to let her go. Louisa knew she was being selfish, but she had to try the fluids just in case, but they didn't help and after a few days, she made the final appointment with the vet. Martin went with her for support. He was quiet during the procedure, but she could tell that he was upset as well. He had grown to love Lizzie in his own way over the years they had been together. Their back garden was small, but they opted to bring Lizzie back home and bury her under a small flowering shrub, letting James and Robert help with the ceremony, introducing them to the cycle of life.

Someday she might be able to convince Martin to allow another animal into their lives, but now was not the time, not with a new baby on the way. She rose to look out the window at Lizzie's corner in the garden. She was cradling her tea cup in her hands when she felt a familiar painful tightening around her abdomen. Her back pain had not subsided, even with the heating pad. In fact, it had become worse. All she could think was, " _no, no, no, it's too soon for labour to start"_. Fortunately, the contraction was short-lived and the intense pain eased as quickly as it had come. Perhaps it was just a Braxton Hicks and her sore back made it seem worse.

She returned to her work, but soon another contraction hit. " _Not a good sign_ " she thought and she looked at the clock, just in case, 9:55. Ten minutes later another contraction hit, 10:05. Beginning to feel panicky she rose from her chair to walk around the house, hoping movement would somehow stop what now appeared to be full-fledged early labour. The baby had been lightening over the past few days. She should have given it more consideration, but she hadn't thought much about it because James and Robert had done the same a few weeks before birth, and her due date was almost five weeks away.

She stared out the window; it had been a warm autumn and now in early November, there were still a good many colourful leaves left on the trees. The sky was clear and the sun was shining brightly, and she was tempted to take a short walk through the park close to their home but then another contraction hit. She looked at the clock, 10:15, ten minutes.

It was still quite early; she didn't think she would need to head to hospital until later in the day, but still, she considered, " _Best put together a list of people to contact._ " First the school – they would need to organize a supply teacher much sooner than they had expected. She should make that call as soon as the next contraction ended. Second, she should contact Emily to see if she was available to stay all afternoon and evening. Her university classes were in the afternoon and term ended in early December, convenient for her due date, but not now. She might not be able to help this afternoon. She should contact Ruth, put her on notice as she might be able to help if need be. Next on her list would be her friend Amy Woodvine; Amy had offered to take the boys for the night when the time came. And most importantly, she must let Martin know, but not before his appointment with his parents. He had enough stress this morning without worrying about her, because he would worry.

She started to make the calls between the contractions and had made all the necessary arrangements by the time her labour reached the magic five-minute interval mark, nearly three hours later. The call to her doctor's office confirmed that she should head to hospital. By the time she had gathered her bag to leave and called a taxi, it was 1:30. She dialed Martin's office number hoping he had passed off his parents to Jake by now.

Morwenna answered, "Mr Ellingham's office. How can I help you?"

"Morwenna, It's me, Louisa. Is Martin free? I know he has a full list this afternoon, but I really need to speak with him."

Morwenna was a conscientious gatekeeper and, even though Martin had given her strict instructions to interrupt him if Louisa called, she hesitated, then replied cautiously, "He's with a patient Mrs. Ellingham. Can I have him call you back in a few minutes?"

Louisa knew that she was just doing her job, but she also knew that Martin would want to know right away. Plus, now that she had called her doctor, her labour was progressing more quickly than she had thought it would. "Morwenna, my labour has started. I've called a taxi and am headed to hospital as soon as it arrives. Martin needs to know."

"Ahh, yes. He will want to speak with you immediately. Let me get him."

She could hear Morwenna running down the hall, the phone still in her hand. In another moment Martin was on the phone, "Louisa?"

"Martin, I've called a cab and am headed to hospital. It's all happening so quickly. Will you be able to meet me there?"

Sputtering, Martin replied, "Yes, yes. I will be there. Are you certain that you will be alright? I should come get you."

"Yes, I'm fine. No, you shouldn't come. I've got to go. The cab is outside and ….ooh." A strong wave washed over her and she had to wait for it to pass before she could open the door and walk down the steps to the waiting taxi. She could hear Martin shouting "Louisa!' into the phone as she ended the call.

He was waiting for her with a wheelchair as the cab pulled into the drop-off area, and he grabbed her bag and wheeled her into reception where they were waiting for her, leading her to a private labour room. There was no wait to be signed in; having a husband who was a department head had its advantages, and a husband who was known for his impatience and his temper helped even more.

A midwife walked into the room and announced, "Let's get you into a hospital gown and I'll just check to see how your labour is progressing. Have your waters broken?"

Martin moved to the door, "Um … I'll just go change into some scrubs. I'll be back momentarily." He hung onto the door jamb waiting for her to acknowledge his departure.

She looked up at him as the midwife was helping her out of the chair, "Yeah. Good."

Martin arrived back to find the midwife scooting out the door. Louisa heard him accost the midwife, "Where are you going?"

"I'll be right back. I want a doctor to take a look. It appears the baby is in a breech position which may require a caesarean."

"Martin?" Louisa reached out for him as the midwife continued down the hall. "She has gone to call the doctor."

Martin nodded and took her hand, "Yes. What did she tell you?"

"Just that she wanted the doctor to check. They didn't do that with James or Robert."

"No. She told me that the baby is breech. It may be that a caesarean section will be required if they can't turn the baby."

"That's what happened with Amy when Gina was born. You will stay with me, won't you?"

"Of course." He sat beside her and dropped her hand as she focused her breathing, concentrating on the current contraction. She could see the look of concern on his face and knew that he wished he could share some of the burden that she must bear. As soon as she fell back on the bed, he replied, "I will be here the entire time. Don't worry. Caesareans have become routine. I'm sure the doctor has done hundreds before."

The midwife reappeared in the doorway, "Doctor will be here shortly. How are things going?"

As Louisa updated the midwife on her progress, she could hear a familiar voice coming down the hall and noticed a shadow fall across Martin's face. He rose and walked to the door. The voice cried out, "Ellingham!"

"What are you doing here?" he bellowed.

'I'm here to evaluate my patient. What are you …. Oh, I see." As she walked into the room and saw Louisa, she greeted her, "Good morning Mrs. Ellingham. I'm not sure if you remember me. Doctor Montgomery. Your midwife has informed me that your baby is presenting in the breech position. I'll just need to examine you."

"Where is Doctor Sanjay?" Louisa wanted the comfort of having her own doctor even though she knew it wasn't always possible.

"Unfortunately, she has come down with the flu bug that is going around. Her practice asked me to fill in for the day."

Martin spoke up at this point, "Are you certain that there is no other doctor who can attend Louisa?"

Edith gave him a wry look, "Not unless you would care to perform the procedure yourself."

Martin looked horrified.

"I thought not". Returning her attention to Louisa and shooing him away with her hand, she added, "Could you please leave the room whilst I examine your wife? It will only take a moment."

Louisa reached her hand out to Martin, motioning for him to come to her bedside, "No. I want Martin to stay."

"Very well. Ellingham, please stand by your wife's head, out of the way." Martin did as he was told. "Yes, that's good."

A few moments later, Edith confirmed that a caesarean was necessary and within the hour, they were all in theatre. Louisa was prepped and Martin was seated on a stool behind her holding her right hand with his, his left resting on her shoulder and his head next to hers waiting for the arrival of their third child. Neither could see the procedure because of the sheet that was draped across her body, although Edith described the steps she was taking, for Martin's benefit Louisa was sure. Certainly, she didn't enjoy hearing exactly which incisions were made or how. It took much longer than she had expected but eventually, after some tugging, she heard the reassuring sound of a baby's wail. "Lungs appear to be healthy," Edith observed to no one in particular. Louisa knew that could be a serious issue with pre-term babies and she was relieved to know that wouldn't be a problem. She leaned up on her elbows hoping to see, but Edith barked at her, "Please lie back down Mrs. Ellingham. It will only be a moment. I am cutting the umbilical cord."

"Is it a boy or girl," Louisa cried.

"One moment please. Nurse, a blanket."

In another minute, Edith walked up to Martin and, with a look of pride and love, handed him a bundle, "Ellingham, your daughter."

" _The doctor is supposed to hand the baby to me. I want to see my baby_." Louisa shifted her gaze from Martin to Edith who returned her look with a self-satisfied smirk as if to say, "He's still mine." It was reminiscent of the dream she had had several years ago, before they were married, in which Edith had delivered her baby and then told her not to worry, that she Edith would ensure that Martin was satisfied while she was recovering. Louisa glared at Edith and then turned to Martin to take the baby and saw her husband, totally absorbed with a look of adoration on his face as he cradled their new born in his arms whilst brushing the back of his fingers across her cheek, the same gesture he used when greeting the boys. Already, he was absolutely besotted and gazing at him she found tears welling up. Finally, she could wait no longer and she whispered, "Martin."

Startled from his reverie by her voice, he shook his head and glanced her way, "Yes."

Giving her one of his rare tender smiles, he gently placed their daughter into her arms.

She took the swaddled infant and repeated Martin's gesture, trailing her fingers across her cheek, brushing the wisps of light brown hair on the top of her head. Unable to take her eyes from her daughter, she murmured, "Oh Martin, she's beautiful" and heard him reply, "Yes, yes she is.'

In a moment, he added, "Just like her mother."

At those words, Louisa started to sob, tears running down her cheeks.

"Louisa, what's wrong?" Martin leaned in with a concerned look and picked up the baby, cradeling her in his left arm. Sitting up, he looked over to the surgical assistant and in an authoritative voice, he commanded, "Nurse, some tissues please." The nurse immediately placed a few tissues in his hand which he used to delicately blot the tears running down Louisa's cheeks. Snapping his fingers in the direction of the surgical staff, again he barked, "more tissues".

"Ellingham, this is not your theatre. It is not appropriate for you to be ordering my staff about."

Louisa saw Martin glare at Edith, then command once again, "More tissues for my wife."

She could see the surgical staff look from Edith to Martin and back again. Martin snapped his fingers again and one of the nurses reached for more tissues and handed them to him.

Martin nodded his head, "Thank you", while Edith glared at the nurse. Louisa smiled to herself in satisfaction, understanding just who was the more respected, or at least feared, surgeon in the room, and she could see that Edith wasn't happy.

"I'm fine Martin, really there's no need." And she choked back a sob.

As he softly continued to minister to her, blotting first one cheek and then the other, Martin said, "Louisa, I thought you would be happy. Why are you crying."

"Happy tears Martin, very, very happy tears." She reached up and pulled his face to hers and kissed him tenderly on the lips. He pulled back slightly, embarrassed by his wife's open display of affection in front of the surgical team and, especially, in front of Edith. "I love you Martin." She whispered as she gazed into his eyes.

"Mmm … "He leaned in close and whispered into her ear. "I love you too."

While he was close to her, she asked, "When will they be done? When can we be alone?"

"Mmm … yes." Turning to Edith, he demanded, "When will you finish closing up?"

Edith kept her head down concentrating on her work, "Do you want me to hurry or do it right? Hmm, Ellingham?"

"Right." Martin returned his attention to Louisa and, handing the baby back to her, he hovered over them protectively. Louisa started talking to her daughter, "Welcome to the world little Louisa Joan, my little Joanie."

At the sound of Louisa's voice, the baby opened her eyes and stared at the two of them, "We're your mummy and daddy and we love you with all our hearts, and you have two big brothers at home to love and protect you too."

"Louisa, you do know that infants are unable to focus for the first few days of life. She can't really see you."

"Maybe not, but she can hear us. Babies can hear even in the womb. I'm sure she knows our voices, so she knows that we are special people."

 **Author's note: Dear readers, to those of you who find the inclusion of Edith at this point in my story a bit too predictable and lacking in originality, I feel the same. But …. I just couldn't resist … after all, she is one of the women in his life.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26 – Edith**

Edith sat in her office writing up her notes from the procedure she had just completed on Ellingham's wife. It was such a strange confluence of events that she, Ellingham's former fiancé, should have been one of the doctors on call the very day that his wife arrived five weeks pre-term in active labour. The other two doctors on rota were busy with other patients when the Ellinghams arrived; there was no one else available to perform the caesarean section, hence it was her responsibility to care for his wife. It was an awkward situation sharing such an intimate moment with Ellingham and his wife, but also fascinating. As uncomfortable as she felt initially, the situation was mortifying for Ellingham, of that she was certain. He had never been one to openly show feelings, yet here he was, sharing one of the most emotionally charged events in the life of a man and woman, and his former fiancé was essentially supervising. She leaned back in her chair and chuckled, the gods were definitely having fun with them today!

The tension that they had both felt eased as she began the procedure and concentrated on delivering their baby, a little girl. The baby was on the small side which was to be expected at five weeks pre-term, but she was healthy with a lusty cry. No half-hearted whimpering for this child with Ellingham for her father and an equally spiky mother. She remembered with chagrin how assertive Louisa had been towards her when they had first met right after they had announced their engagement.

She sighed as she thought about the look on his face as she placed the baby in his arms, oblivious to all but the baby. She had hoped, silly hope that it was, that he would be grateful to her for delivering to him a healthy baby, but no, he took the baby without giving her a glance, not even a thank you. Same old Ellingham, no manners whatsoever, part of his charm certainly. His wife Louisa, though, wasn't pleased and gave her a glance indeed, her eyes shooting daggers as if to say, _keep away_. That didn't stop Edith from shooting a smug look right back at her. Louisa may have won the war, but Edith knew she could still win a few skirmishes given the chance.

Ellingham had a gentle side though he rarely revealed any warmth towards the hospital staff, preferring to maintain a cold professional demeanour, demanding perfection of all he encountered. But underneath all that bluster hid a loving kind-hearted man, and that man shone through with the birth of his tiny daughter. And he was obviously devoted to Louisa, just as she was with him. She knew that the surgical team was surprised to see him behave so tenderly towards his wife, the terrible ogre Ellingham, a devoted husband. She was also certain that her team would be buzzing about it as soon as she left theatre. She wouldn't be surprised to hear snippets whispered throughout hospital corridors for the next week … or two. In fact, the news may have spread already, as the usual buzz out in the hall seemed louder than usual.

She took a break from her work to rest her head on her hands and stare into space, remembering. She sighed. His behaviour didn't really surprise her; she knew his gentle loving side. Once he reserved that part of himself just for her. She missed having someone look at her with such adoration. None of her other lovers, not even her ex-husband, had ever looked at her the way Ellingham once had. Why had she let him go?

They had begun their relationship as fellow students vying for the top position in their class. He was brilliant, but distant, lacking in empathy, destined for surgery. She herself was equally brilliant; hadn't she always been at the top of all her classes? But she had a quality that he lacked, the ability to show compassion for her patients whether she actually felt it or not; her career options were broader. They became study partners, challenging each other to master the material thoroughly. They had taken to studying in his rooms where they were unlikely to be disturbed by other students asking inane questions. After several weeks of intense study just before a comprehensive examination, when neither of them could think of another abstruse avenue to explore, she reached across the table and kissed him. She could tell that she had surprised him because he looked startled when she pulled away, but a moment later he pulled her face back to his and kissed her fervently. They ended up in his bed together. It was apparent that it was his first time with a woman, but he was a quick learner in the bedroom just as he was in the classroom and he never failed to satisfy her.

Even though she tried to keep it strictly sex, and the sex was incredibly amazing, there were times when she was touched by his tenderness. She knew he had fallen in love with her despite her efforts to keep their encounters strictly study and sex. She herself had grown quite fond of him even though she didn't love him. Love could derail one's career, and she had vowed never to let herself fall into that trap. However, when he proposed, she had accepted for practical reasons. She knew their alliance would be advantageous to both their careers if they were together. Unfortunately, it didn't work out. When the opportunity came to move abroad and study the latest in fertility treatment techniques, she couldn't pass it up. She had always been able to guide his career decisions in the past, and she had tried to convince him to apply for a similar opening in his field at the same research centre, but this time she failed. Ellingham had already accepted a post at St. Thomas', was unwilling to renege, and in the end, he had chosen wisely. He had had a brilliant career so far. It was the right decision for both of them. But there were still times when she missed being the centre of his universe. Her surgical staff might be surprised at his devotion to his wife, but she wasn't.

What did surprise her was that this child was his third. When they were together, when she had accepted his proposal, they had never discussed children. She had never had a desire for children and she was certain that he had never given a thought to having a family. When she returned to England, she tried to rekindle their relationship remembering the fabulous sex as if it had been just yesterday, not the years that had passed whilst she was away. And, if she were honest with herself, she missed his adoration. She had even given thought to marriage. They would make a formidable team, but he had rebuffed her advances. Had he really forgotten what they had meant to each other? When she happened upon Louisa in his office one afternoon and discovered that he was engaged to be married, she understood why he had rejected her efforts. She withdrew but approached him again off and on for a few years after in hopes he would tire of his wife and be open to an affair, or even a dalliance, but he never responded and she had finally accepted the inevitable. Even though they worked in the same hospital their paths hadn't crossed in several years.

She had never pictured him as a family man, going home to the little wife and children as so many of their colleagues did. He was a man of medicine, devoted to his calling. How could he have been distracted from his passion that was medicine to marry, and to marry outside of the profession. Had he lost his edge? It was inconceivable to her, yet here he was with his wife as she gave birth to their third child, cooing over both her and the child. How he had changed! Or had he? She remembered the poem he had written to her as a token of his love.

 _On my own, no more  
The beat of my heart echoes in time with another  
And now, sore with longing  
It runs like a child to its mother._

She sighed, he was the only man who had ever written her a poem. He had an unfulfilled hunger for affection, and thought he had found it with her. She had treated his declarations lightly, laughing at his youthful enthusiasms, ignoring the depth of his need. She herself had always been able to manipulate him, he would do almost anything to make her happy. It was obvious that the power she had over him stemmed from his need for love, and now his wife had the same power. If she needed a third child to make her happy, then he would give her that third child. No … in essentials, he was still the same Ellingham, hard on the outside, but soft and malleable on the inside, desperate for love.

She roused herself from her reverie and turned back to her tablet to finish her notes, smiling to herself at her memories. Perhaps it was best that he had resisted her attempts to reconnect. She would never have been able to give him what he needed. If she had been more sentimental, she would have found Ellingham and his wife endearing. As it was, she found her encounter with them and the entire situation astounding, and well … completely, totally, and utterly amusing.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Margaret stood up as the orderlies wheeled Christopher out of his private room. His procedure was scheduled for the following day. By the time the hospital had admitted him and started the preliminary tests, Margaret realised that she was famished. Earlier in the day she had been anxious about their appointment with Martin, whether they would be able to reconcile, and she had been barely able to choke down a piece of toast. Food had been the last thing on her mind during the consultation with Martin and his colleague, Mr. Brendall. The admission procedure had been complicated and interminable, or so it seemed, but finally Christopher was assigned a bed and taken down to the imaging department for scans.

She was free for an hour of two and it was time for an early dinner. She followed the signs down to the canteen where visitors and staff were milling about, inspecting the hot cafeteria offerings, searching through the prepared salads and sandwiches, filling cups with assorted beverages, and grabbing packets of crisps. It was chaotic, but she was hungry and she managed to put together an acceptable, if less than quality meal.

She found a table on the far wall against a bank of windows and pulled out her book to enjoy the few moments she could steal away from her husband and the reminder of the ordeal that both of them had ahead of them. Tomorrow would be gruelling. While Christopher was in surgery, she would contact one of the estate agents Martin's assistant had given her to see if she could find a temporary home here in the heart of London. She hoped that Martin would check on Christopher this evening before he went home. It wasn't as though she didn't trust this man Brendall that Martin had assigned to Christopher's care, but she didn't understand why he felt it necessary to operate immediately. Even though they had been estranged from Martin for years, she knew he had been raised to be a man of integrity and would tell them the truth.

She was sitting at a table next to several staff members who were gossiping, as staff were wont to do. They were laughing when one of them piped up. "Did you hear? Mr. Ellingham's wife had a baby girl a few hours ago."

"You're _not_ serious!" another exclaimed. "That man is married?"

Several at the table laughed and nodded their heads. "Yep, he is! I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. You should see his wife, she's quite pretty."

"You're pulling my leg." The second one replied.

"Really, he is … they married, oh, maybe 8 or 9 years ago. This new baby is their third child."

"I guess it's true what they say …. There's someone for everyone … although I shudder to think what home life is like with him."

One of the nurses added. "I'm friends with his assistant, Morwenna and she tells me his wife is quite pleasant, his complete opposite, and that their children are just adorable and sweet as can be."

Margaret wanted to ask if the baby was okay, but that would imply that she had been eavesdropping. She turned the page of her book even though she hadn't read it just to make it appear as if she had no interest in their conversation, but she continued to listen to learn what she could about her son and his family.

"Three children? How can she stand to be with him? I've never seen the man smile. In fact, I avoid him whenever I can." The second wasn't going to be dissuaded in her opinion of the difficult surgeon.

Another agreed, "I know. Don't we all? I cringe every time I get assigned to one of his cases. You just know that your week is going to be hell."

Another spoke up to defend the man, "Well to be honest, he's fine as long as your treat his patients well and don't do anything stupid. He actually commended me when I discovered one of his patients was developing a hematoma last year. He really is an excellent surgeon and just wants the best for his patients."

"Maybe, but he could be a little nicer."

"I can't argue with you about that."

Out of the corner of her eye, Margaret could see one of them lean in close to the others and say, "Can you imagine having sex with him? I can't even begin to imagine what he would be like in bed!" She shuddered and the others tittered.

As the laughs died down, another nurse piped up, "Edith Montgomery was the attending."

"Eww" Some of the others shuddered, "Another doctor I try to avoid"

"Don't you know it. Well … I heard Montgomery's surgical nurses talking after the delivery. They said he was a typical new father, besotted with his baby and devoted to his wife. They couldn't believe it. One of them even heard him whisper 'I love you' to his wife!"

"Really? Wish I'd been a fly on the wall to see that."

The first nurse leaned in closer to them all, "You know, I remember someone telling me that Montgomery and Ellingham were an item back in medical school. They were engaged, but she broke it off to go abroad for her career. I wonder if that's true. Anybody else hear that?"

"Yeah. I remember hearing that myself, back when she first came on board. I wonder if it's true. It must be. Why would anyone make that up? Can you imagine how awkward that must have been for her to deliver his wife's baby?"

"Another reason to have been a fly on that wall."

They all howled with laughter at the thought, and then moved on to other topics. _"Montgomery, yes that definitely was her"_ Margaret remembered Edith, the woman Martin was involved with whilst in medical school. _"So, she is back in London, very interesting."_ Margaret drummed her fingers on the table as she sipped her tea. _"Too bad Martin was already married to Louisa when she came back; he could have reconnected with her. She was lovely, so cultured, a much more suitable wife for Martin."_

Suddenly Margaret shook herself as she realised the implications, _"No. What am I thinking? If he had married her, it's unlikely they would have had any children. At least with Louisa, there are some grandchildren!"_ The sound of chairs scraping on the floor as two staff members left the group to return to their work startled her and reminded her that there was a more important issue to consider, the new baby. She was certain that the baby wasn't due for four weeks or more and she felt some concern, " _The baby, is the baby okay? They didn't say anything about it so it must be okay._ " She took a bite of her pasta salad and returned to her book. In a moment, she had an idea, " _Perhaps I can catch a glimpse of the baby if she is in the nursery. It can't hurt to go look._ " Margaret finished her meal, took her tray to the bin, and asked for directions to the maternity ward.

As she exited the lift on the maternity floor, she sought out the nursery. They had the blinds up for visiting hours and there were several other people her age searching through the window for their newest grandchild. She methodically looked at the names on each cot but was not able to find the name Ellingham. She caught the eye of the nurse and asked, "I can't find the Ellingham baby."

"Oh, I'm sorry madam, but the baby is rooming in with her mother and can't have visitors. She will be in hospital for one or two more days. Check with us tomorrow to see if she can have visitors."

"But she's all right, isn't she?"

"Of course. Check in tomorrow."

Somewhat relieved, she headed towards the lift and happened to see Martin walking down an adjoining hall. She hurried past to avoid his view and ducked into an alcove a few doors down, watching him walk towards the maternity unit and enter a private room several doors down from the ward. " _That must be Louisa's room_ ," she thought to herself, and made a note to wander by the next day, and then continued on to Christopher's room, hoping to be there when Martin checked in on him.

Christopher was awake and picking at the meal he had been given as she entered his room. "It's about time you came back," he snarled. "Where have you been?"

"I went down to the canteen to find myself some tea. I see that they have delivered your evening meal as well."

"Typical hospital food," he complained bitterly. "Mystery meat, overcooked vegetables, and hospital coffee. Why can't the NHS make a decent cup of coffee.?"

"Should you be drinking caffeine before surgery tomorrow morning?"

"Decaf." He sputtered.

No response required, she nodded and took a seat in the guest chair next to his bed and pulled out her book. "Has the surgeon been by?"

"No. You'd think with a fellow surgeon as a patient they'd be a little more attentive. Martin better come by this evening. There are a few things I want to get clear with him."

She glanced up from her book, "What kind of things?"

"You wouldn't understand … technical."

Deciding it was time they had a serious talk, she put her book down and removed her reading glasses. "It may be prudent to share your concerns with me. If something should go wrong, as your nearest relative, I will be the one to whom they will turn for decisions regarding your care."

"I would expect you to seek guidance from Martin."

She let out a sigh of frustration, "Really Christopher, given that you have been estranged from him for years, I'm not certain that he will be objective regarding your care."

He pushed the overcooked peas around his tray, turning up his nose, "Of course he will. He's a surgeon. He's accustomed to maintaining an objective perspective on his patients."

"Yes, but he won't be making those decisions as your surgeon. He's likely to be swayed by his indifference as to your outcome; he may feel it is in your best interests to withhold care. How would you feel about that? Do you want us to do whatever it takes to keep you alive, or let you go?"

He fidgeted with the sheets, staring at her hard. Margaret continued," I seem to recall that we discussed this a few years ago and you told me to just let you go. You didn't want to be hooked up to machines. Have you put that in writing? It would be best to have your wishes in writing."

She could see that he had not considered that he, Christopher Henry Ellingham, could possibly be so disabled that he could not make that decision himself, and he turned toward the window in thought.

"Well?"

Still facing the window, he muttered, "I'll have to think about it."

She returned her attention to her book, then raised her head and added, "I believe the hospital may require you to sign a form indicating your wishes before your surgery. That is standard procedure, is it not? You need to make your decision soon, probably tonight if surgery really is tomorrow."

Martin appeared a few minutes later after a short knock on the door. He nodded, "Good evening", and went straight to the patient notes at the end of Christopher's bed where he spent a few minutes going over them. He stood ramrod straight and when he finished, he looked up and addressed his father, "You are scheduled for surgery in the morning. I have spoken with Brendall and it looks fairly straightforward. A carotid endarterectomy. I assume he has gone over the details with you. Do you have any questions I can answer?"

"Yes, I do". Christopher then proceeded to pepper Martin with questions, none of which Margaret understood. When it appeared he had finally finished, Margaret spoke up in what she hoped Martin would consider a sweetly concerned tone, "Is there anything I should know before he goes into surgery, Martin?"

"The procedure will likely last five to six hours so you may be more comfortable waiting back at your hotel. Just be sure to give the waiting room staff your contact information."

"Yes. I will."

"It's likely his recovery will be a month or two or longer. He may need a second surgery in a few weeks, so you might want to find a flat for the duration."

"Yes, I plan to do that."

"Very well. I will check in tomorrow evening."

Martin turned to go, but Margaret stopped him, placing her hand lightly on his sleeve, "Martin, I hear congratulations are in order."

He snatched his arm out of her grasp, glowering at her, confused, "Wha …? What do you mean?"

"You and your wife have a new baby?"

He tugged on his ear, "Mm …. Yes."

"Mother and baby are both doing well?" She gave him a sweetly questioning look of concern.

"Yes."

She clasped her hands together, releasing a sigh and smiled, "I'm glad."

Christopher had picked up a magazine when Martin turned to leave, but when he overheard this conversation, he barked, "You already had two children. What did you need with a third?"

Martin whipped his head around to face his father, and not expecting his comment was, for a moment, tongue-tied.

"Honestly man, what are you doing with that woman, breeding like rabbits. It's disgusting!"

Martin pulled himself up to his full height, balling his hands by his side, and bellowed, "How dare you! That woman, as you call her, is my wife. She is …. She is …" For a moment Martin was at a loss for words, wanting to escape, never to see his parents again, yet needing to defend Louisa.

"She is what? What? You were lucky to have found any woman to marry you."

"Louisa is a beautiful and brilliant woman. I love her and all _three_ of our children."

"Love," Christopher spat. "What do _you_ know about love?"

"I know more about it than you do," Martin snapped back.

"Humph," Christopher scoffed, a scowl covering his face.

Martin glared at him, his entire body quaking with fury, his face contorted with rage. He could contain himself no longer and he addressed his father in a low threatening voice, "I have endured your distain for me my entire life, but now you excoriate my family? You despicable excuse for a human-being." He went to the door, still shaking with barely controlled anger, "No more! – you are on your own now. Good-bye" He turned on his heel and flew out the room.

"You've done it now," Margaret said as she glared at Christopher and followed Martin out of the room as he strode down the hall, crying out, "Martin, Martin, wait."

With his long legs he was at the end of the hall in a few seconds and she found herself running after him shouting even more loudly, "Martin."

He skidded to a stop and turned, snarling, "What do _you_ want?"

Struggling for breath as she caught him up, she gasped, "Martin, please. I wanted to congratulate you on the birth of your daughter. Please ignore your father's outburst. He's not himself these days."

"Seems pretty much as he's always been," he growled back at her. Martin was not in a humour to give his father any slack.

"It's been so long since we were close. Can't we heal this rift … at least you and me. We may be the only family we have left should something happen to your father."

"I have a family", Martin responded, looking at her with contempt. She had no way of knowing that he was remembering how he had handled just this situation in his dream so long ago. "I have my wife and I have my three children and I have Ruth. You never wanted me, even when I was a child, why should you care now?"

She continued to plead with him, "You know what I mean. I would really like to be a grandmother to your children."

"They have a grandmother, Louisa's mother, and they had Joan."

"Please Martin." Margaret begged. "Please let me meet your family, or at least, see the new baby, a little girl, so sweet."

Martin softened just a bit at the mention of his daughter, but only a bit, and he replied in a more civil tone, "I must get back to Louisa. It was a difficult birth and she needs my attention. I left her only to check on Dad."

"Please," Margaret begged.

He stood silent for a few seconds, appearing to consider her request, then lifted his head higher so that he was looking down at her, and he responded with gravity, "Let me speak with Louisa. Perhaps you can come look at the baby tomorrow through the window. Give my assistant Miss Newcross your contact information in the morning, and I will have her notify you before visiting hours. Now I must return to Louisa and ensure she is cared for properly."

"Thank you, Martin." Margaret smiled to herself as she turned back towards Christopher's room. " _That went fairly well. Now I just have to get Louisa on my side._ "


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

" _That didn't go too well",_ Louisa thought as she lay on the floor next to her hospital bed wondering how she was going to pull herself back up before Martin returned from checking on his parents.

They had had a lovely few hours together whilst she was in recovery, where the nurses were extremely attentive, checking her vital signs and inspecting her incision every 15 to 20 minutes. She was certain that this level of care was unusual and due solely to the fact that Martin was with her the entire time, making the same checks on both her and the baby every few minutes as well. As happy as she was having him by her side as they bonded with their daughter, he could be a bit overly solicitous. Eventually she sent him out of the room to make the calls that were essential: to Ruth and Miriam to let them know the good news, and to Emily and Amy to arrange for the boys to spend the night with Amy.

Whilst he was out of the room, she took the time to enjoy just holding her daughter, confiding in her all her hopes and dreams for their life together, and letting her feed for the first time. Finally, they were released to their private room, another perk allotted to her, the wife of a department head. She felt uncomfortable receiving special treatment and she had tried to convince Martin that she would be fine on the ward, but he would have none of it. She might not feel the need for the privacy of her own room, but he required it if he were to stay and help her through the first night before her anaesthesia wore off and she was able to ambulate safely on her own. It made sense when she thought about it. She knew the staff was curious about his family life and the three of them would be exposed to all sorts of gawking and intrusions on the ward.

It was nearly the end of the working day when they were finally in their room and Martin had ensured that she was comfortable. He had ordered a meal for them from one of the local restaurants he frequented when he was working late, braised chicken with roasted potatoes, broccoli and carrots. It was simple food, but quite delicious, and perfect for restoring her strength after the day's events, along with the low-fat milk that Martin insisted she drink to provide all the nutrients she would need in nursing Joanie.

He had been checking messages throughout her recovery and responding as needed, but now he really needed to go back to his office and he felt obliged to check on his Dad. Louisa knew that he was concerned even though he had complete confidence in Jake. Before he left, he had admonished her in his strictest doctor's voice to stay in the bed and call the nurse if she needed anything. But she had been able to wiggle her toes and she felt fine, so …. when the baby cried, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, took a step, and then …. Well here she was, lying on the floor. The baby was still crying and her legs weren't quite ready to support her, and the call button was up on the bedside table.

As luck would have it, she heard the door swing open and Martin's voice cry out, obviously concerned when he didn't see her in the bed, "Louisa? Louisa?"

"Martin," she squeaked, dreading his inevitable tirade at her foolishness.

He stepped over to her side and she could see the exasperation he was trying to contain as his shoulders rose and fell with a huge sigh. "Oh, for goodness sake. Didn't I tell you to stay in the bed? Let's get you up."

He bent over and, placing his hands under her arms, pulled her up and then placing one arm around her back and one under her legs, he lifted her up and placed her on the bed, but not before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek, "My hero" she whispered in his ear.

He coloured just as she knew he would, her words throwing him off guard. He jerked his head away and spluttered, momentarily at a loss for words. She could see confusion in his eyes so she smiled at him and kissed him gently on the lips.

He smiled back at her and then tucked her blanket up over her waist, kissing her forehead. "Perhaps, but that doesn't excuse the fact that you got out of the bed when I expressly told you not to."

The baby was still crying, and he walked over to her cot, picked her up and carried her over to Louisa, refocusing on the matter at hand. She reached out to take the baby from him and defended herself, "My legs felt fine and I thought I could walk the few steps to the cot. I realize now that I was wrong. Yes, I should have listened to you."

"Yes". He tugged on his ear and turned to avert his gaze as she released her breast for the baby to feed. She thought how funny it was that, even after all the passionate nights they had shared, even after three children, he felt the need to offer her privacy when she first started to breast feed. "You _are_ allowed to look, you know."

"Mm … yes." He raised his eyes, walked over to her side and sat gently on the bed, his hands tucked between his thighs. "The two of you are so beautiful together."

She smiled at him and raised her head, "Martin. Give me a kiss."

He leaned over and gave her a delicate kiss on the lips. She responded, "The _three_ of us are beautiful together. Remember that."

"Yes." Stroking the baby's head as she suckled, he became thoughtful. "I often wonder how it is that I have you and our children. What did I do, how have I possibly deserved you?"

'Oh Martin, you are such a lovely man. How can you not deserve us?"

"Sometimes I wake up at night and am afraid to look at your side of the bed, afraid that you won't be there, afraid that I will discover that you are all a dream."

"Noooo…." She pinched his arm.

"Ow." He reflexively grabbed at his arm and glared at her, "Why did you do that?"

"We are not a dream. We are real and we belong together. You know that."

He delicately stroked the baby's head looking sombre. "Yes."

Louisa looked down and saw that little Joanie had fallen asleep and she gently pulled the baby from her breast and laid her against her chest. Martin threw a flannel over his shoulder, then reached over and took the baby, raising her to his shoulder, "Let me wind her."

As he patted her back, ever so softly, Louisa took a deeper look at her husband, his brows knitted tightly together as in deep thought. "Is everything sorted for your father's procedure tomorrow?" They had discussed his assessment of his father's condition whilst they were together in recovery and she knew it was serious.

The baby let loose a loud burp. He gave her one last pat on the back and rose to lay her in the cot next to Louisa's bed. "Yes."

"But something is bothering you, yes?"

"Oh Louisa," he groaned, slumping into the chair at the head of her bed. "I don't want those people back in my life."

'It's that bad? Do you want to talk about it? We're not going anywhere."

"You really need to rest whilst you are able."

"Yes, but this is important. What happened?"

"My mother congratulated me on the baby's birth. My father overheard and he wanted to know why we had a third child, when two were more than enough. Said we were breeding like rabbits."

Louisa hands flew to her mouth in shock, "That's horrible."

"I can understand their knowing about Joanie. Morwenna put up an "It's a girl" balloon outside my office." He rolled his eyes, "Ridiculous."

"Oh, that's so sweet, and traditional."

"Hmmph. I took it down as soon as I saw it."

"Did you keep it? We can hang it outside our home."

He looked at her as if she had gone 'Bodmin' then continued his thought. "Thanks to her, I'm sure the staff was discussing her birth in the hallways, but how did my parents know we had James and Robert?"

"Martin. You yourself are always telling me hospitals are cesspools of gossip. They probably overheard one of the staff members gossiping about us."

"It's not anyone's business but our own. Why must we be a topic of conversation?"

She smiled at him, "It's because you are a mystery to all the staff, you know. Always such a private man, strictly business in hospital; they are curious about you away from hospital."

"Humph."

He looked back over at the sleeping baby, "Why don't we get you back on your feet, see if you can walk a few steps. I'll help support you."

He rose and helped her up out of the bed, supporting her weight with his arm. "Now take a step."

She was wobbly at first and wrapped her arm around his middle to steady herself, but she was taking more confident steps by the time they reached the door. "Let's go out into the hall."

"No. This is enough for now. You need to rest. We'll try again later after Joanie's next feed. In the meantime, I want you to lie down and close your eyes. Here, have a drink of water first. You need to stay hydrated."

"What are you going to do?"

"I have some patient notes to review."

"Okay."

It seemed like she had just closed her eyes when she heard the baby cry. Martin was changing her and heard her rouse. "Just give me a moment. She needed some cleaning up."

"Yes." Louisa lay back down and closed her eyes whilst she waited for Martin to bring the baby over. She could see that it was going to be a long night. Thank God she had Martin by her side to help. In a moment he brought the baby over. As she opened her gown and put the baby to her breast, she mentioned, "Martin, I'm beginning to feel a lot of discomfort near my incision. Do you think I could get some pain medication?"

"Of course. I thought Edith had prescribed something for you. Let me check with the staff." He walked out the door and within moments a nurse was in with the prescribed morphine drip. Martin was scolding her, pointing out that it should have been made available as soon as Louisa had left recovery. Louisa could tell the nurse was flustered as she inserted the IV with Martin hovering to ensure she did it correctly. And Louisa found herself anxious that the nurse might have trouble with Martin watching her every move. In an effort to lighten the situation she turned to him, "Martin could you fill up my ice bucket Please? And get me a glass of water? I'm feeling really thirsty."

By the look in his eyes, she could tell he was wise to her ruse, but he went along with her after he had satisfied himself that the nurse was competent enough. He looked back up to Louisa nodding, "Of course," and he marched out of the room in the direction of the supply cupboard.

Louisa smiled down at the nurse, "Sorry about my husband. He can be something of a perfectionist."

The nurse glanced up, no smile on her face as she finished up, and replied, "Right. That should do it. You should be feeling better in a few moments. Let me know if there is anything else I can do to help." Before Louisa could answer, she scurried out of the room passing Martin on his way in.

"Here's your water and ice. Were you able to continue nursing whilst that idiot was fumbling with your IV?"

"Yes, Martin. I'm fine and Joanie's just about finished, aren't you my love?" She gazed down at her daughter's big blue eyes as the baby spit out the nipple and wiggled in her blanket. "Would you like to wind her?"

"Yes." He threw a flannel over his shoulder and then took the baby and started to pat her back, nuzzling the top of her head. He was obviously devoted to his daughter already.

"Um … Louisa," Martin addressed his wife. When he started a conversation in this manner, Louisa knew he had something of import on his mind.

"Yes, Martin?"

"Um … When I went to check on my Dad earlier, my mother … um." He paused and she could tell he was struggling.

"What about your mother?"

"She wants to see Joanie." He hurried on, "I told her that you were recovering and that you couldn't have any visitors, but I am afraid she will persist. I told her that I would discuss it with you and let her know if she could view the baby through the glass tomorrow."

Louisa could see that he was grappling with his mother's request, a request she thought was reasonable, but with which Martin obviously felt uneasy. "I've told Ruth and Emily to bring the boys tomorrow after school to visit. They can't come in the room, but they can see her through the glass and I should be able to go out and give each of them a hug."

"Ahh …" Martin was his usual loquacious self.

"I suppose she could come for a few minutes before that. But it's up to you Martin. You don't want her to see Joanie?"

'I don't want either of those people to have anything to do with our children, but I know she won't take no for an answer. "

He continued to pat Joanie on the back until she belched up a small amount of milk. "Do you want to hold her or should I place her back in her cot?"

"I'll take her for a little while. Do you think I could get up and walk in a few minutes?"

"Of course."

He handed Joanie to Louisa and stood watching as Louisa started to unwrap the baby blanket and twiddle with her tiny fingers. "So, what do _you_ want to do about your mother?"

"Best to get it over with, I suppose. I will have Ms. Newcross tell her to come at the beginning of visiting hours, that she may see the baby for a minute or so, no more. Dad should be in recovery by then and she should return to stay with him for his remaining time in hospital."

"That's fine Martin. Will you be here for that then?"

"Yes. I will supervise her viewing and then escort her back to Dad's room. I want you to stay out of sight. She doesn't need to know what you look like. She might try to insinuate her way into our family and I don't want that."

"Okay." Louisa agreed despite her curiosity about Martin's mother. What kind of woman could be so odious to her only child? It was a puzzle to her.

 **Author's note: I hope all of you have enjoyed the story so far. There is much more to come. And a big "Thank you" to all the readers who have left comments and reviews. All feedback is greatly appreciated.  
Happy **Passover **and Happy Easter to all who are celebrating holidays this spring.**


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

It had been a long day and Margaret was exhausted. She was up much earlier than she was accustomed in order to be at hospital by 6:30 to have a final word with Christopher before the staff wheeled him into the surgical wing of the hospital. There was toast and some strong tea in the hospital canteen to fortify herself for the day, and then a call to meet the estate agent that she had contacted the day before to find a suitable flat for what was likely to be the next several months. Over the years in talking with Miriam, she had learned much about the life of Martin and his family, in particular the part of town in which their home was located. She didn't have the exact address, but she did remember the name of the street and the park that was just opposite their home, and she told the agent she wanted to focus in that part of town. It was a very nice part of the city, but not as close to the hospital as she would have preferred, nevertheless it was a very short taxi ride over. She hoped that the location would give her an opportunity to see the family upon occasion, and if so, it would be worth the slight inconvenience.

She found a tastefully furnished flat in a building just two streets over from Martin's home which would serve her purpose. The flat itself was quite small with just one bedroom, but it was unlikely she would be entertaining. If Christopher were released from hospital but required to stay in London, they could always move to larger quarters.

Whilst she was out, she received a call from Martin's assistant, a bit of a girl who dressed in an outrageous fashion. She couldn't understand why Martin would hire such a flibbertigibbet. There must be some hospital rule that he couldn't fire her. At any rate, this girl told her that Martin would meet her in the lounge area of the maternity wing at 4pm sharp. _And_ this girl had the temerity to admonish her not to be late.

So here she was at 3:55, sitting in a worn plastic chair waiting for her son to escort her to his wife's room to "view" her new grandchild. As much as she wished to hold the child and have a picture taken, she was certain that was too much to hope for.

The lounge was worse than a train station. The television was blaring with some reality show and all sorts of people were milling in and out, waiting for visiting hours to start. Her back ached and her feet were sore from walking what must have been miles on the city pavements, and the hard chairs provided no comfort. She had found a place with a good view of the lounge entrance, hoping Martin would be early. She had instilled in him at an early age the importance of being prompt for any appointment. She looked down at her watch as the minute hand finally reached the top of the hour, and when she looked up, Martin was entering the room, scanning it looking for her.

She stood and smiled at him with a show of affection; she was determined to break down the wall he had built against her and Christopher with all the kindness and good will she could muster. He had a scowl on his face as he nodded his head in her direction. Why couldn't the man return her smile? Good manners cost so little and made such a big difference. He waited for her as she walked across the room, "Good afternoon, Martin." She greeted him, sweetly reaching up to give him a hug as he stepped away, avoiding her embrace.

"Mm … hello. Follow me."

He turned on his heel and strode in the direction of the private rooms. She had to jog a bit to keep up, but it wasn't a long walk and he stopped outside a room where the curtains were drawn.

"I will go in and move the baby's cot to the window. You may see her for a minute or so and then I will return her to her mother."

"May I meet Louisa?" She looked at him hopefully.

"No, she is resting. Wait here."

"Could I hold the baby, just for a moment?" Perhaps she could persuade him to take of picture of the two of them together. She wasn't particularly hopeful he would acquiesce, but it was worth asking.

"No. Absolutely not." He opened the door and, true to his word, he moved the room's curtain aside briefly in order to pull the cot to the window. He stood behind the baby, blocking any view she might have had into the room to acknowledge or greet Louisa.

Margaret gazed at the sleeping child and was entranced. She had slipped one of her tiny hands out of the swaddling and her fingers were balled up in a fist that rested quietly on her chest. Margaret could see that she had delicate features, a petite nose, what they call a rosebud mouth, a creamy complexion and rosy cheeks. She definitely took after her mother, thank god. Her head was shaped beautifully, so unlike other babies she had seen over the years. There was a wisp of light brown hair peeking out of the cap on her head, but as Margaret gazed at her, she focused on her ears which had also slipped from the cap. Were they a bit too large for her head? She hoped that this little girl didn't inherit her father's ears. That would be a shame. Of course, with long hair they would seldom be seen, and they could always pin them back if they did grow too big.

It seemed like just a moment and Martin pulled the cot back behind the curtain and exited the room.

"Oh Martin, she is a beautiful baby."

He averted his eyes and indicated the way towards the lifts with his hand. "Mm … Yes"

"And you can always get her ears pinned back if they grow too large." She nodded her head thoughtfully as she offered what she considered a well-meaning and helpful bit of advice.

He squinted his eyes at her in disbelief, and refusing to respond, he changed the subject, "I've spoken with Brendall and he tells me that Dad has come through surgery as well as can be expected. I assume you can make your way back to his room."

"Will you be stopping by later to check on him."

"No, not unless there is a crisis. Brendall will keep me updated; he is quite competent and the staff will take good care of Dad."

"But Martin. He _is_ your father." She wanted to chastise him, but held her tongue and kept her voice as gentle as possible, trying not to antagonize him.

"Mm … I must care for Louisa … good bye."

He had walked her as far as the lifts where he abruptly left her to return to his wife and child.

She reached out for him, "Wait, please."

She could see his shoulders rise and fall in a sigh as he turned back to face her, "What is it?"

"May I see the baby again tomorrow before you take her home?"

"Why? She won't look any different than she does today."

"Still, I'd like to see her."

"No."

Desperate to gain access to his family, she tried another tact, "Perhaps I can call on you in a week or two after you take her home. I'd like to get her a little something."

"No. That's not necessary." With that he turned and left.

She stood there at the lifts exasperated. True to his word, he had let her see the child, but it seemed that he felt his obligation to her had been fulfilled. She felt humiliated at his treatment of her. After all, she had been as cordial and gracious as possible, had apologised for his father's remarks and been complimentary of his child. Good manners would have required that he acquiesce to her request or at least pretend to consider it. She would have to plan her next move carefully.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Margaret was still standing, waiting on the lift, when Ruth exited the lift opposite with James and Robert in tow. Their nanny Emily had afternoon classes and an exam this particular afternoon, and as much as she wanted to see the new baby, she couldn't afford to skip her exam. Ruth had agreed to take the boys to hospital to see their new sister. And here they were. James was concerned about the new baby and why she was still in hospital, "We're here Graunty. Are you sure we won't be allowed to hold her? Maybe mummy will let us."

"I don't think so James. She is very little and they don't want her to get sick. That is why she can't have visitors. But we can look at her through the window and mummy can come out to the hall and visit with us."

"Baby Joanie here? We go see baby Joanie?" Robert piped up.

"Yes Robert. We are going to see baby Joanie. And Mummy and Daddy." Ruth replied in a soft tone to the younger boy whose hand she held securely. She had to admit that she herself was anxious to see this new child of Martin and Louisa's, the child they would name after her younger sister Joan, the boys' de facto grandmother who had died suddenly not quite two year's ago. Oh, how she wished Joan were still with them to be able to hold and cherish all Martin's children. She deserved that after not having children of her own. She had left them all too soon.

As she turned to go down the hall, she startled as she practically ran into Margaret who was standing there with a smile on her face. "What are _you_ doing here?" The question was out of her mouth before she had time to think.

"Nice to see you too, Ruth." Margaret smirked.

Ruth pulled both James and Robert to her protectively. "I thought you were in Portugal."

Margaret raised her head to reply, "Didn't Martin tell you? Christopher is ill and his doctor referred him to Martin for treatment."

Ruth could sense that James was curious about this woman with whom she was speaking. Unlike his father, James was highly sensitive to people's emotions and she would have to explain later, but for now she was struggling to keep him behind her.

"Well. I will discuss that with Martin, but right now I must be off." She turned to usher the boys down the hall, but not before James squeaked out a quick, "Hello, Miss Margaret."

"Hello James. How are you today." Ruth glared at Margaret as she grabbed James' hand and pulled him away.

"Fine. I'm going to see my new baby sister." He shouted back at her as Ruth hustled him down the hall

Margaret managed a quick, "Congratulations."

Ruth looked down at James wondering to herself how it was that James knew Margaret. There would be time for that later. They had arrived at their destination and she knocked on the door. Martin answered and the boys both lunged at him, "Daddy, Daddy" they squealed as they hugged him. It had been more than a day, after all, since they had seen him and they missed him almost as much as their mum.

Ruth always enjoyed observing her nephew in his role as a family man. When he and Louisa had told her of their plans to marry all those years ago, she had had grave reservations, fearing that the effects of Martin's loveless and lonely childhood would inhibit his ability to function successfully with a wife and children. When he had come to her asking for a referral to a therapist because of nascent haemophobia, her fears deepened; but he was obviously determined and it appeared he had succeeded in overcoming the damage done by his mother and father. He was a stern father with high standards and expectations. But he was also affectionate and she smiled to herself as she watched him engage with his sons, smiling and ruffling the hair on top of each one's head.

As he went down on one knee to give each of them a hug and a kiss on the cheek, he admonished them, "Shush. We must speak quietly in hospital." Robert was the first to ask, "Baby Joanie?"

"Yes Robert. Baby Joanie is here in the room with Mummy. I'll get her, shall I?"

Louisa peeked out of the door and they both cried out again, although in slightly quieter voices as Martin gave them a cautionary look, "Mummy, Mummy we missed you." Robert especially clung to her leg, refusing to let go even when she told him that he was squashing her. Martin slipped into the room and pulled out a chair for Louisa to sit on whilst she visited with the boys. "Be gentle with Mummy Robert, James. Her tummy is very sore and you don't want to hurt her."

Robert climbed up on her lap anyway and tried to soothe her by rubbing on her tummy. "I will kiss it and make it better."

Louisa grimaced slightly and shifted his weight, "Thank you Robert, that will help." Once Robert was comfortably settled, Louisa looked up at Ruth, "Thank you so much for bringing them Ruth. Recovering from this surgery has been much more difficult than I expected. I'm so grateful to have Martin here to help me."

"Mmmph", Martin nodded, and colouring, turned his head to the side, "I want to ensure that you heal properly is all."

"O _h, for goodness sakes_ ", thought Ruth, " _Why can't the man take a compliment. His wife is obviously grateful. Those parents of his!"_ She replied to Louisa, _"_ My pleasure, dear. Do you know when you will be taking the baby home?"

"Maybe tomorrow. I hate being in hospital … even with the best surgeon in the country taking care of me." With a conspiratorial grin aimed at Ruth, she waited a beat for Martin to bluster a reply.

"Hm … uh …. I'm just concerned for your welfare. Your specialist will evaluate your healing this evening, and if appropriate, we will go home tomorrow." Turning to Ruth, he continued, "I've hired a private nurse to care for her in the afternoons and early evenings when our nanny can't be there and I must be at work, so she may be able to be discharged earlier than is otherwise standard. Can you drop the boys off at the Woodvine's again for tonight?"

"Of course." Much as she loved the two boys she was relieved not to have to care for them for more than a few hours.

Louisa looked up at Martin thoughtfully, "Do you think that is necessary Martin? I'm sure the staff will take good care of me if you want to take the boys home for the night."

"Yes. I don't want you falling during the night if the staff can't respond immediately when you need them."

Whilst holding Robert in her lap, Louisa pulled James to her with her other arm and started to ask them how their night at Amy's was and how school was that day. As she was engaged with her children, Ruth pulled Martin aside. She had noticed a small crowd gathering down the hall staring at Martin as he interacted with his family, undoubtedly staff curious about the gruff surgeon with the pretty wife and three children. Martin would be incensed if he realised that he was attracting attention, and she turned so that he was facing in the opposite direction, "Do you have a moment? I ran into your mother near the lifts."

"Ahh. Yes. Dad is ill … severe atherosclerosis."

"Christopher wouldn't be on this floor. What was she doing here?"

"She heard about the baby and wanted to see her."

"Oh, that's disquieting. I'd be very cautious if I were you."

"Yes."

"James seems to know her."

"What?" He peered at her, concern and curiosity colouring his face.

"He said hello to her as we were leaving the lifts. He called her Miss Margaret and she spoke to him by name. He told her he was going to see his new baby sister. It appeared to me that he has spoken to her before."

Martin was clearly troubled by this news and stepped over to James to discuss it with him, but Ruth blocked his way. "I think you should wait until after the boys see the baby. Don't spoil their excitement."

"I won't spoil anything." Martin replied in a huff. "I'll talk to Louisa about it after you leave. Perhaps she is aware of the situation. Now, would you like to see Joanie?"

"Well … that's why we are here, isn't it?" Ruth tipped her head and arched her eyebrows

Martin slipped back into Louisa's room and pulled the curtain from her window. He rolled the baby's cot over to the window, then stepped out. "James would you like to see your new sister?"

The window was quite high and James had to stand on his toes to see over the ledge. "Here, let me lift you up." Martin picked up James and balanced him on his hip while James leaned into the window to gaze at the sleeping infant. "She's so tiny. Look at her little fingers. Were Robert and I that little when we were new, Daddy?"

"Um … no …. Joanie is smaller than you or Robert were."

Robert climbed up Louisa's lap to see, "Me see baby Joanie … please."

Ruth chuckled at her great nephew's use of manners to achieve his goal.

Martin put James down and picked Robert off of Louisa's lap and held him up to the glass. Mimicking his brother, he exclaimed, "Baby Joanie is little."

Louisa stood up, steadying herself with a hand against the wall. "Why don't we move my chair over so the two of them can stand on it and look in. Martin, you can go hold her so they can get a better look."

"Right."

Ruth crowded near the window, holding on to Robert to steady him and observed not only the baby but also her nephew. His face had softened into a slight smile and he was cradling the baby in one arm, loosening her blanket so that they could all see her better. She squirmed slightly as he disturbed her and smacked her lips together. He stroked her cheek lightly with the back of his fingers and it was obvious that he was totally smitten with his youngest child. _"Fathers and daughter_ s," Ruth thought. _"He will have to be careful not to spoil her."_


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

Later after Ruth and the boys had gone, Louisa was eating her dinner, a takeout dish of pasta and fish. Martin had picked it up for the two of them at another small bistro a block away that he frequented when he was working late. Hospital food was less than appealing and he felt it important that Louisa have a delicious and nutritious meal so she would eat and keep up her strength.

"Uh … Louisa?"

"Yes Martin? This pasta is delicious; you are spoiling me."

"Um … no I'm not. You need to recover and heal from the surgery, and you must build up your milk supply to adequately provide for Joanie. You need a good well-balanced meal in order to do that."

Louisa laughed at her practical husband. She could have been offended that he would refer to something so plebeian as her milk supply. Any other man would take the compliment at face value, it never crossing his mind to discuss his wife's lactation; but she had learned long ago that Martin was not like other men. "Joanie will be grateful for your attention to both the quantity and quality of her food supply", she replied with a twinkle in her eye.

She could see his initial confusion at her comment and a dawning awareness, "Mm … yes. You're teasing me."

She screwed up her mouth in an impish smile, "Yes I am." After eating two more bites of her fish and taking a few sips of the skim milk he insisted she drink, she remembered that he had something on his mind. "So, did you have something you wanted to discuss?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

He took a sip of water and disclosed the problem, "Ruth ran into my mother when she exited the lift this afternoon."

"Oh dear. So much for keeping the children from her."

"That's just it. Ruth said that James recognized my mother, said hello to her in fact. And my mother called him by name."

Louisa looked alarmed, "How can that be? Perhaps she learned the boys' names from the staff and knew that the oldest was called James?"

"Possibly, but how could he know her name. He said "Hello Miss Margaret."

He put down his fork and continued, "I have been thinking. Is it possible that he met her once when you were visiting your mother? My parents live less than ten miles from your mother, you know."

"Really? I don't know how. I am always with them when we visit and I don't know that we have met her. I would remember if we had been introduced to someone named Ellingham. It's not the most common name around." Earlier that afternoon, Louisa had been curious about Martin's mother and had tried to catch a glimpse of her through the blinds as Martin walked her down the hall, but hadn't been able to see her face. She might have recognised her if she had.

'No."

"I can't think of any other place where he would have met her."

They both returned their attention to their dinner. "I could ask my mother if she has a customer named Ellingham. I'll call her after dinner, but we may just have to ask James."

Martin shook his head, "No. I'd rather not discuss it with him. He may have forgotten seeing her and we don't need to remind him."

"I don't know Martin. He is a very curious and clever little boy. He doesn't miss much and he's never been shy about asking questions. If Ruth spoke to her, which I'm sure she did, he will remember and ask Ruth about her. Maybe not tonight because they are still excited about Joanie, but certainly the next time he sees her. We should be prepared with an answer."

"Yes, Ruth and I discussed that possibility. If he should ask, she will say that Margaret was someone we knew in London before she moved to Portugal. I think that should satisfy his curiosity. No need to elaborate."

Just then Joanie began to whimper and Martin rose to tend to her, changing her diaper efficiently, washing his hands and then taking her to Louisa to nurse before settling back to finish his dinner.

"You're good at that," Louisa observed as she propped her arm on a spare pillow and loosened her gown as an impatient infant rooted into her chest.

"Good at what?"

"Changing a messy baby." She grinned at him and winced as Joanie latched on.

"Lots of practice," he replied as he took another bite of fish. "Can I give you a bite of your dinner whilst you feed?"

In a minute." Louisa adjusted her position. "Would you put another pillow behind my back? I'm not quite comfortable."

"Certainly." He pulled a pillow from out of the cupboard and helped her to sit up straighter as he placed the pillow behind her back. "There. Is that better?"

"Much. So … do you think I can go home tomorrow?"

"It's likely. Your incision looks like it's healing nicely. Let's get you up and walking after dinner. If you are stable, I can't see any reason for you to stay in hospital longer."

Louisa sighed, "It will be so good to be home and get back into a routine.'

"Louisa." Martin began, using his authoritative doctor's voice which she hated. "You can't possibly expect to have a routine with a new baby. You know it will take several weeks before she settles in."

Relieved that he wasn't actually going to lecture her on the need to rest or some other perceived requirement, Louisa laughed, "Of course I know that. I was only teasing you."

"Yes, of course you were." He replied with a huff.

"But I do want to go home. Hospitals are very noisy and it's hard to rest."

Shifting the baby to her other side, she cooed, "You're going to be the perfect baby, aren't you my sweet?"

After dinner, after she and Martin had taken a walk down the hospital hall and back, and after her consultant had examined her and pronounced her able to go home, she picked up her mobile to call her mother.

"Louisa, is everything alright? With you and the baby?"

"Of course, mum." She had called her mother briefly the previous night to tell her all about the baby's birth, how unexpected it had been and how they had ended up with a C-section, but she was tired and hadn't had time to go over all the details, waiting till another time to do that. "I'm going home tomorrow, thank god."

"Good to know," Miriam replied.

Louisa continued, "I know it's late, but I wanted to ask you something. I was wondering … Oh no, Joanie's crying." She paused a moment, "It's okay, Martin has her. I need to ask you something."

"She has such a sweet cry, doesn't she?" Miriam replied.

"Yeah she does, but Mum I need to ask you something quick before I have to feed her again. She's just like her brothers, always hungry."

She caught Martin's eye as he was tending to the baby and smiled, then returned to her mum, "Martin's Dad is sick and his parents have come back to London for treatment. James saw his mother today in hospital and he seems to know her. We don't know how he could possibly have met her before, but they live close to you and I thought perhaps she is one of your clients."

"I don't have any clients with the last name of Ellingham. Of course, I don't know everyone's last name. We operate on a cash basis and I only know most of my ladies by their first names."

"Her first name is Margaret."

"Have you asked James?"

"No not yet. He was here to visit me and see Joanie and we didn't have time to question him."

"Well he's the one you should ask."

"Of course, but I just thought you might know."

Louisa could hear the impatience in her mother's voice, "If I knew Martin's mum was one of my ladies, don't you think I would tell you? Really Louisa."

Louisa sighed, "Of course you would. I just thought."

"But now that you mention it, one of my ladies, Margaret, has gone off to London with a sick husband. Don't know her last name, but she's always asked about you and the children. Now, that's not unusual. Most of my clients ask after you. She probably told me her full name the first time she came, but I don't really remember – she's just Margaret, my Thursday at 2."

"I'll bet that's her. Thanks mum. Got to go. Joanie's ready to feed … again. Oh my poor nipples are getting sore already. … not any fun."

'Rub them with a cabbage leaf – works a trick."

Louisa rolled her eyes, grateful that her mother couldn't see her reaction to her advice, "Right. I'll keep that in mind. Bye mum."

"Oh Louisa, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Tell Martin to send me some photos. I need to see my new granddaughter."

Louisa laughed, "Yes you do. Look for them tonight."

Martin had been standing next to her bed as she was ending her call. As soon as she rang off with her mum, he passed the baby to her and then asked if Miriam knew his mother.

"She has a client named Margaret who has gone off to London with a sick husband. She doesn't know her last name, but I would guess it's your mum."

Martin was incredulous, "How can she not know a customer's last name? it would be on her credit card wouldn't it?"

"Mum only takes cash as payment. I guess it's easier."

"And probably underreports her income for tax purposes," Martin muttered.

"Martin! What are you saying?"

"Never mind, it's not important. What's important is how we handle my mother. I don't want her spending any time with the children. How can we prevent that?"

"There's no need is there? We're going home tomorrow."

"She wanted to drop by our home for a visit … bring a gift for the baby. I told her no, but that's unlikely to stop her."

It was Louisa's turn to be dubious, "Do you think she would just drop by our home, unannounced? That's so rude."

"It's quite possible if I refuse to allow her to visit."

"Does she even know where we live?"

"if she doesn't already, she will find out. The woman is nothing if not resourceful."

Louisa turned philosophical and said, "I guess everyone has relatives they would prefer to disown, but we can't always do that."

"Yes, we can."

"Martin!"

"I see no need to indulge her whims."

"Well, if you really think she's likely to show up on our doorstep, maybe we will have to invite her over … when you are there. Get it over with. And then escort her out after a few minutes. Maybe that would satisfy her."

"It might. Let me think on it."

Martin sat down next to her on the bed just as Joanie was finishing her evening meal. "Let me wind her."

As Louisa passed Joanie over to Martin she said, "By the way, Mum would like some photos of Joanie. Can we take a few and send them to her tonight?"

"Of course. I'll do that right after she's winded while she is still awake. You could hold her. I'd like that, a mother-daughter photo." He replied matter-of-factly, as he paced back and forth patting the baby on her back. As he reached the doorway, she burped spitting up a small amount of milk, and he wiped her chin. He turned back to give Joanie to Louisa and noticed that Louisa had tears in her eyes which she was trying unsuccessfully to blot. "Louisa, what's wrong. Are you in any pain? What can I do?"

"I'm fine. I'm just so happy. Must be my hormones making me cry." She smiled at him and decided there was no need to tell him that his comment about wanting a mother-daughter picture had touched her so.

She straightened herself up against the pillows and reached her arms out for the baby, "Give her here." As she loosened the swaddling around the baby, she burbled to her daughter, "Okay Miss Joanie, are you ready for your first photos?" She propped the baby in her arms facing Martin and chuckled to herself, " _It probably is just my hormones acting up_."


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Margaret was exhausted. Christopher's recovery, if it could be called that, was proceeding at a snail's pace. His speech had become progressively worse; he was slurring his words to the point that she could barely understand him, and when she failed to comply with one of his requests exactly, he flew into a rage. Despite Mr. Brendall's assurances that his condition would improve over time, she hadn't seen it in the three weeks since his surgery. When she happened to see Martin on the ward or in the hallways and tried to approach him, he simply said, "I speak with his consultant daily and he tells me that Dad is progressing as best as can be expected, and I drop in every other day to examine him myself. He will improve. I suggest you talk with one of our chaplains or the Social Work Team about ways to manage your concerns. Good day." And off he would go.

Now Christopher was scheduled to be moved to a rehabilitation facility in two days. She would have no reason to be in hospital and was less likely to see Martin on a regular basis. She was beginning to question the wisdom of bringing Christopher back to London to consult with Martin. Dr. Fonseca had assured them that Martin was the top in his field, but perhaps it would have been better to consult with someone else. Of course that is what happened when he pawned them off onto Mr. Brendall. Oh! How she wished that Christopher had agreed to reconcile with Martin before his medical crises. It would be so much easier if Martin were willing to sit down with her and explain why his recovery was proceeding at such a slow pace. It would help even more if he would take the time to relieve her of some of the burdens she faced every day caring for his father. She tried to be cordial, whenever she met him, asking after Louisa and the children, but he always replied with a curt "They're fine," and continued on his way.

It wasn't just Christopher's medical care with which she wanted, no needed, help. She needed help managing their affairs. There was the villa in Portugal; there were undoubtedly utility and insurance bills that needed to be paid. There was the flat she had taken here in London that she would ultimately have to pay for, not to mention the cost of her meals and other expenses. Christopher had always handled the big decisions in their life together, managing their finances, paying the bills, leaving her free to manage their social life. The division of responsibilities had always worked well for them, but now that he was ill, it was all up to her and she had no idea where to start or what to do. She needed help; she needed Martin to face up to his responsibilities and help her, and with that in mind, she decided to make a late day appointment for a consultation with him in his office, and insist that he help her.

She could tell he was surprised to see her sitting in his office when he entered. He was clutching his tablet on which he kept his patient notes, and she braced herself for what she knew would be a less than welcoming reception.

"What are you doing here?" He growled as he stepped over to his desk.

"Martin, I need your help."

"I've told you that the Social Work Team is there specifically to aid you in finding appropriate help."

"This isn't about your father."

"What is it then?"

She had her purse sitting on her lap and she gripped it as if it were a shield to protect her as she went into battle, for that was how it felt, facing the forbidding façade her son presented towards her. She sat up straight and stated her case directly, "Your father has always managed our affairs".

Martin raised his head, looking down at her, "Mmm."

She continued with slightly less assurance, "I am afraid that I never learned how, and now I don't know where to start. I'm sure we have bills due, and …. " She broke off, waving one of her hands in the air and looked up at him expectantly, not knowing whether to continue or not.

"Yes." He opened one of the drawers in his desk, shuffled some papers there, then looked back at her, folding his hands neatly on his desk, "And you want me to do what, exactly?"

She could tell that he wasn't going to make this easy for her. She had always been able to beguile any man whom she encountered to do exactly as she wished. Even Martin was compliant when he was young, always anxious to please her, but now, after years of estrangement, he seemed impervious to her charms. Martin sat there, his steely gaze boring through her till she had no other recourse. She would have to beg, "Martin, please. I don't know where else to turn. You are the only family I have left."

For what seemed like ages, he sat there, his expression frozen in that cold-hearted scowl with which he had first addressed her. How could the cold dispassionate unfeeling man sitting before her possibly be the same man Miriam described as tender and loving with his family. Of course, Christopher had been warm and caring once. She could stand the silence no longer and she begged him once more, "Martin?"

"Very well." He rose, picked up his tablet, and went to the door. "Let's go see if we can get any information from Dad."

She followed him through the halls to Christopher's room, where Martin was able to bully Christopher into giving him the name of his solicitor, his financial advisor, his banker and his insurance agent.

With that information in hand, they left Christopher's room and Martin led her to a small patient conference room where he addressed her formally, "I will contact these people and arrange for us to consult with each of them to put a plan into place for you to start managing your affairs. I assume Dad has assigned you with a power of attorney should he become disabled. Brendall can certainly certify to his incapacity."

"I … I don't know. Christopher always …"

"Humph! Yes, yes, he took care of everything. Did the man not realise how important it was to share this kind of information with you? Good God!"

She wasn't able to respond, and she looked away, sighing. Yes, she now realised that they had both been too cavalier about planning for this kind of event.

"We'll have to consult with the solicitor first. I'll have Miss Newcross call you when I have made an appointment."

He rose from the table and bade her Good Evening.

He opened the door and turned to go, but she grabbed at his sleeve, "Thank you Martin."

"Yes." She tried to give him a hug, but he shrugged her off and left her standing alone in the hall. She sighed in disappointment, but what did she expect? He had always been a disappointment to both of them. At least he remembered his filial responsibility when it mattered.

After spending a few more minutes with Christopher, who was in a dark mood after his encounter with Martin, she made her way back to her flat. By the time she left hospital, it was dark and she was hungry so she picked up some take-out for dinner, not looking forward to her night alone with her book. Perhaps there would be something entertaining on the television this evening; so much of the programming was supercilious drivel, but she could hope.

Learning to manage their affairs was going to take a lot of energy, but she needed some other diversions. She was lonely, a feeling she had never before experienced, as she had always surrounded herself with her friends, planning their frequent social events, working on their charity fundraisers. She needed a social life, desperately. She didn't relish the thought of spending the holidays alone in London or with Christopher in a rehabilitation facility. Most of her friends were in Portugal now or had retired and moved to other parts of the country to be with their families.

Since returning to London, she had talked several times with her three close friends in Portugal to let them know how Christopher was fairing and to get the latest gossip, but she hadn't confided in any of them just how stressful the entire ordeal had been so far. She should call Carly again. Didn't she come over to London to spend the Christmas holiday with her son and his family? At least she would have someone to lunch with and attend a play or two. That could be fun.

And she could confide in her about Martin's family, perhaps Carly could help her find a way to be a part of their lives. It wasn't that she wanted to spend a lot of time with them; she wasn't good with children and the thought of spending her weekends and holidays with three screaming children was more than she could bear. But perhaps she and Louisa could become friends, enjoy an occasional night out together at the theatre or an afternoon shopping for the children. A break from the demands of her children could be a pleasant diversion for Louisa as well as herself. And Louisa could be open to sending her pictures of the children to share with her friends. That was her ultimate goal because her grandchildren were definitely more attractive and would be more accomplished than those of her friends, she just knew it. Yes, Carly could help with that, help her become accepted by them. She looked at her watch. She and Geoffrey would be at dinner with their friends. She dialled her number anyway and left a message


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

Louisa leaned back against the head rest as she settled into her seat for the long train ride to Cornwall. Joanie was sleeping contentedly next to her in her Moses basket and Louisa gazed down lovingly at her infant and stroked her cheek. She reached over to adjust the blanket tucked around little Joanie and placed her palm lightly on her chest feeling the rhythm of her daughter's breath in and out, and then draped a blanket over the top of the basket to protect her from the unwanted attention of the other passengers.

Because the baby was originally due in mid-December, they had agreed that spending the holidays in Cornwall would not be practical and had decided to celebrate in their London home, but Joanie's early arrival made their usual holiday plans feasible, and Louisa was taking a midday train down to Bodmin. Martin was planning to drive down that night with the boys, and had arranged, with Simon's insistence, to spend nearly two weeks with the family at the farm. She was looking forward to having him mostly to themselves, a quiet family retreat from the pressures he experienced daily as head of his department, and this year the added stress of his parent's arrival. She hoped the break would do him good. They had arranged to have Joanie christened while they were in Cornwall and there were always the social events they usually attended, the Parson's Boxing day open house and the village holiday party, but they could pass on the last two if need be; everyone would understand with the new baby.

Satisfied that Joanie was settled, she turned her attention to Ruth who was sitting in the facing seat and rummaging about in her bag. "Thank you so much for coming with me Ruth. I told Martin that I would be fine on my own, but it is comforting having another adult with me … just in case."

Ruth looked up and replied, "I'm happy to do it. I was planning to take the train down tomorrow anyway. One day earlier won't make much difference."

Ruth returned to searching her bag. "Aha, just what I was looking for," she cried as she fished out a well-worn diary. "I need to write down a few thoughts for appointments I made just before leaving." She set it down on the table, flipped over a few pages, jotted down a few notes, then closed it up again and glanced over at the baby's basket, "I was somewhat surprised that Martin agreed to our taking the train. The baby is so young."

"We discussed it. Martin is satisfied that she still retains the antibodies that were passed to her through the placenta prior to birth and through my milk. So, she is protected from most germs by what they call passive immunity. Unfortunately, it doesn't last forever, and we will have to start her vaccinations a week or two after we return to London." She gestured toward the covered basket, "Still we want to shelter her from the other passengers."

"Yes," Ruth concurred. "By the way, have you booked a taxi to take us to the farm once we reach the station?"

"No, my friend Alicia will pick us up. We left Robert's infant car seat at the farm and she promised to pick it up and put it in her car for Joanie to use during the drive there."

"Ah yes. I was wondering how we were going to manage the drive from the station to the farm without it." She returned to her bag and pulled out a book, opened it up and then closed it again.

"Martin is driving down later today?"

"Yes. He will leave around 7 or so, assuming he doesn't have any last-minute emergency surgeries." Louisa screwed up her mouth and sighed, "He promised me he would assign any patients that came in this afternoon to one of his staff, but you never know."

Louisa drummed her fingers nervously on the table that was placed between the seats. Martin insisted that they take the first-class carriage and it was remarkably more spacious than the standard carriages she had booked when she was single. And even though there were only three of them, they had reserved all four seats so that they could have some privacy and so their bags would be at hand should the need arise for any of the assorted items that babies always seemed to need over the course of an afternoon. With an infant, they had been able to board early, but now passengers were crowding the aisles searching for their seats. Boarding was always a chaotic affair, and it was even more so on this Friday before Christmas. Louisa found herself leaning in toward Joanie as one passenger and then another struggled with their bags and packages as they made their way down the aisle. It was impossible to talk when such pandemonium reigned.

After most of the other passengers had found their seats and the carriage settled into a quiet hum, Louisa picked up their conversation where it had left off, "As I said, Martin is planning to drive down this evening. Emily, our nanny will stay with the boys this afternoon whilst Martin is at work, feed them dinner and get them into their pyjamas whilst Martin packs the car. I expect he will arrive well before midnight. I hope so anyway."

"That's late."

"Yes, but it's easier to drive at night when the boys can sleep. James is getting old enough to entertain himself in the car during the day, but Robert still gets restless, and Martin can only tolerate his whinging for so long; best to travel when he can sleep."

"I see." Ruth picked her book back up and opened it as the train pulled out of the station. After a few minutes had passed, she craned her neck to look down the aisle, then set the book down. "It appears the host is setting up her refreshment supplies. I think I will go get some tea. Would you like something whilst I am up."

"Tea would be lovely. Thank you."

Ruth rose and made her way to the Customer Host at the back of the carriage. While she was gone, Louisa stared out the window as the train rumbled past the edge of the city where suburban homes and industrial development thinned out to a more rural landscape with only the occasional warehouse marring the beauty of the english countryside. It was a view with which she was familiar from the year that she had made this journey monthly to visit Martin before they were married. She sighed, thinking about that magical time in their lives, just the two of them spending the weekends making love and getting to know each other. She remembered the excitement she would feel when she boarded the train to leave Cornwall knowing that soon they would be together, and then the emptiness she would feel when she had to leave him.

She loved their life together now, but the demands of both their jobs and the children could be exhausting, leaving little time for just the two of them to enjoy each other's company, let alone time for romance. Even those simple daily pleasures they had enjoyed in the early days, cooking together or working a crossword puzzle were luxuries now. Yes, they did make time to spend a few minutes together each evening talking over the day, but it was often less than ten minutes. And they did manage a date night every other week when they would go out to dinner, just the two of them to reconnect and to remember why they had fallen in love. There was also the occasional play or concert to attend, but they were usually accompanied by friends or hospital benefactors, which was enjoyable, but not particularly romantic. She had to admit there were times when she missed the excitement of that time when their love was new.

She laughed at herself, " _What a hopeless romantic you are Louisa. You certainly don't miss the time you had to spend apart, or the drama surrounding your attraction to Michael, or your uncertainty about leaving the village._ " Looking down at her daughter, she thought, " _No, life is good._ " And she had to admit that right now she was hoping for a few romantic evenings, just the two of them after the boys and the baby and Ruth had retired for the night.

"I wasn't certain what you wanted with your tea, so I brought you sugar and milk." Ruth set down a tray with the tea and several packets of sugar and milk and some complementary biscuits to nibble on.

"Thank you, Ruth. I brought an extra water bottle with me … have to keep my fluids up for nursing you know … as my husband reminds me daily … but this cup of hot tea will be wonderful. Thank you again."

"I suppose we should eat something more substantial than these biscuits. We can order some sandwiches if you'd like." Ruth reached for one of the biscuits and took a bite.

"I brought some sandwiches with me, chicken with gruyere and arugula on whole meal; there's two if you'd like one."

"Maybe later." Ruth took a sip of her tea and placed the cup down on the table. "Now that you mention your husband, he has been looking very tired lately."

"Oh Ruth. You know how it is with a newborn. Neither of us gets much uninterrupted sleep, and Martin insists on taking his share of night-time feeds."

"Really? And how does he manage that given that he is not equipped for lactation?" Ruth raised her eyebrows quizzically.

Louisa smiled and laughed, "I usually pump a few bottles worth during the day and store them in the refrigerator for the nanny, and for Martin, to use when I'm not available."

"I see. No need for formula then?"

"No. It works out well. But Martin needs his sleep. He always has."

"I'm sure he is used to sleep interruptions. Medicine, especially surgery doesn't always operate on a nine to five schedule."

"No, I learned that early on." Louisa agreed. "I just hope that he can relax and that we can spend some 'quality time' together. Maybe he and I can cook up something wonderful for dinner one or two nights whilst we are away. The fish is always so fresh in Portwenn and Martin loves fish. We used to spend most every night planning and cooking together and we haven't been able to do much of that recently."

Louisa reached for one of the biscuits as well, dunked it in her tea and took a bite. "Yumm. These biscuits are so good. I don't normally eat them anymore." She burbled on, anticipating their time in Portwenn. "Remember how Joan found Martin's childhood train set. He and the boys can set up the train around the Christmas tree; I love to watch the joy on his face when he starts the train on its run around the tracks. He enjoys it as much as the boys. And we can all take long walks along the cliffs or explore the tidal pools." She paused and gazed down at Joanie. "Well, maybe not with the baby."

She looked up to see Ruth's eyebrows rise in a sceptical look. "Yes, yes, I know it's winter, but we might have some pleasant days and even when it's blustery, the fresh air will do all of us good. I think it will be good for Martin to get a break from all the hospital stress."

Ruth took another sip of her tea and looked at her nephew's wife with affection. She had noticed something in Louisa's manner, if not her words, that told her something else was eating at her. She put her cup down and murmured, "I always thought that Martin thrived on the challenges that came with his work."

Louisa nodded, "Yes, that's true. He loves being a surgeon."

"So, it's something else."

Louisa looked out the window and sighed, "Yes."

"His parents?"

Louisa took in a sharp breath and closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. She should have expected Ruth, never one to tip-toe around a difficult subject, to bring that up. She had been debating for several days about how to confide her concerns about Martin and his parents with Ruth. How much should she tell her? She decided to just go for it. Ruth would wangle it out of her by the time they reached Cornwall anyway, "Oh Ruth, it's been so difficult for him having them back, and I'm so worried about him."

The older woman set her cup down and tactfully asked, "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"You know Martin. He's not one to share his feelings, but he has been tense ever since they showed up in his consulting room. Even his sleep is restless, tossing all night long."

She sighed and looked out the window again for a moment, envious of the sheep in the fields and their carefree life, and then continued, "And it's gotten worse. It eats at him constantly, I can tell. I want to help, but feel at a loss."

"Yes, I was afraid their presence was causing him anxiety. Martin did confide in me that his father is not responding as well as they had hoped. I understand that they have moved him to a rehabilitation facility, but that he is uncooperative. His prognosis doesn't sound promising."

"No it's not, and I'm sure that concerns him, but he spends very little time with his father. He said some very nasty things to Martin about us, me and the children, right after Joanie was born, and he avoids the man as much as possible."

"He's never even met you. What could he possibly say that would upset Martin so? No, I take that back. He could say any number of things just to hurt Martin. I don't know why he never took to Martin, but he didn't … always said he was a disappointment. I wonder now if it ever occurs to him that Martin has far exceeded his own accomplishments?"

She picked up the tea pot and filled her cup all the while muttering, "Probably resents his success."

Louisa glanced over to the sleeping baby, then nibbled on another one of the biscuits. "Like I said, he avoids his father, and he has complete confidence in the staff to do what needs to be done so there is no need to see him. The real problem is his mother."

"Can't say that I'm surprised, horrible woman."

"She was completely dependent on his father to manage their affairs and now she has bullied Martin into taking over."

"Bullied?"

"Okay, maybe not bullied. Martin wouldn't say that, but that's what it seems like to me. She told him it was his responsibility to help her out, so he's taken her to his father's solicitor to get her appointed to take over their affairs. And he has accompanied her to his father's financial advisor and banker to ensure that she can pay their bills and such, but she seems at a loss as to how to do anything."

"She's not as dumb as she pretends. She just doesn't want to be bothered with it."

"You're probably right, but that's not the worst of it."

Ruth twisted her mouth in a grimace, "What else is there?"

"Martin says that Margaret will be left with very little income once Christopher dies, only a small pension and a little capital. Seems his Dad has a substantial pension, which has enabled them to live a very comfortable life in Portugal, but she will receive only a small fraction of it once he dies, and what savings they once may have had, they have spent. She will have to sell their villa in Portugal and find more economical accommodations. Martin fears she will look to him for financial help. She has hinted that it is his responsibility, as their son, to support her."

"That's outrageous!" Ruth couldn't contain her anger. "It's the most absurd assertion I have ever heard." She suddenly realized that she was shouting and she lowered her voice, "He doesn't owe them anything! It's not as if they gave him anything of value."

"Well they did give him a good education."

"Noooo! That was all his grandfather's doing! My father paid for his schooling whilst he was alive and set up a trust fund for Martin in his will when he died. Christopher and Margaret did pay for his maintenance before he reached school age, paid for his nannies and fed and clothed him, but it was his grandfather who made certain he had a good education. How dare she try to blackmail Martin like that."

"Does Martin know that?"

"Of course he does. But he has always known that he was a disappointment to his parents, that he could never measure up to their hopes and expectations. He felt it, still feels it, very deeply. He may believe this is his last chance to make them proud of him."

Martin had told Louisa that something similar had happened in his dream. His mother had come to visit them after his father died and had asked him for money to buy an apartment in Lisbon, but he had refused her. He wanted to do the same now, but felt it wasn't the honourable thing to do. She wouldn't share that with Ruth of course, but with Ruth's analysis, it suddenly made sense to her.

She responded to Ruth, "Yes, I have always sensed that might be the case. But I thought that he had worked all that out with his therapy just before we were married. I know that he is terribly unhappy to have them back in his life, and he refuses to let his mother near the children."

"Good."

"She wants to see them, wanted to come over one evening to spend a few minutes with them, but Martin put her off. Of course, she knows James. It turns out she is a client of my mother's and she was in her shop one day when we were visiting. Mum was watching James whilst I ran some errands and she met him then."

"Ah, that's how he knew her when we went to visit you and Joanie that day in hospital. I'm surprised he remembered her."

"Ah yes, James is like his father, doesn't forget a thing. I haven't told Martin, but she called me just a week or so ago, inviting me to lunch saying it would be good to get to know each other. I declined of course, new baby, the holidays, and preparing to travel to Cornwall, all that."

"I wouldn't trust her if I were you."

Louisa was pensive, "No, I understand. But … I can't help but think that I should at least meet her, see for myself what she is like."

"Oh, I can tell you that she will be all sweetness and light, as charming as any well-bred London socialite could possibly be. She will worm her way into your life, hoping to get you on her side, hoping that you will convince Martin to help her. Beware."

Ruth continued, "Perhaps I can help Martin. Let me think on it. Margaret and I have never gotten along, but it may be time for me to intervene. She is perfectly capable of taking care of herself; I am sure I could offer her the encouragement she needs."

"Do you really think you could help?"

Ruth leaned back in her seat with a sly grin on her face. "Yes, and I might just enjoy it!"

They both sat quietly for a few minutes enjoying the scenery as it whizzed by until Joanie started to fuss. Ruth watched with fascination as Louisa swiftly changed the baby's nappy, loosened her blouse, and soon had her contently feeding. "I am always amazed how you can breastfeed your children with no one the wiser."

"I'm not so sure about that." Louisa chuckled as she looked down at the baby feeding lustily. 'I suppose I am able to drape a blanket so that you might think I am just cradling her in my arms … but I can't do anything about the noises she makes."

Ruth hadn't really thought about that. She cocked her ear in Louisa's direction and caught the distinct sounds of a small baby suckling, and breathing heavily between each swallow. "Well. She certainly seems to be enjoying her meal.

'I've been meaning to ask you … how was the hospital holiday gala this year? I remember Martin telling me he had run into one of my old colleagues, Peter Symington, whilst you were there. I didn't think you were planning to attend."

"No, we weren't planning on going if Joanie had made her appearance when scheduled. It would have been right around her birth and I definitely wouldn't have been up to it. But we were able to go, if only for a short time. You know how much I enjoy those festivities. We didn't stay very long, just for the dinner and an hour or so after. We were able to squeeze in a few dances as well. It was very enjoyable whilst we were there. I have some pictures in my purse if you'd like to see them."

'Yes, perhaps later. You know, I don't think Martin went to more than one or two of those galas before he met you. How did you ever manage to interest him in attending?"

Louisa grinned at her, a sparkle in her eye, "Oh, I have my ways."

Ruth responded with one of her own wry grins, "I'm sure you do."

She lifted the baby up to her shoulder to wind her and then placed her on the other side. "Martin did introduce me to someone named Peter Symington. He didn't tell me that you and he were acquainted. He seemed like a very nice man. How do you know him?"

"Oh … he was just someone I used to consult with at Broadmoor. He was a GP, held surgery hours twice a week for the inmates. They have the usual assortment of medical complaints just as any other population. He occasionally referred one of his patients to me and I would occasionally notice an odd symptom in one of my patients and ask him to take a look. That's all. It was a good working relationship. I haven't seen him in ages, but it's nice to know he's doing well."

Louisa grinned and raised her eyebrows, teasing, "Anything more to it than that?"

"No, not my type." Ruth responded dryly, then added, "Besides he's married to a lovely woman, another GP. I believe she worked in the hospital's out-patient clinic. Did you have a chance to meet her as well?"

"No. I believe he said he was there by himself."

Ruth looked puzzled, "That's odd. I never saw one without the other when they weren't at work. I do hope she is well. I'll have to contact him after the holidays. It will be good to catch up."

"Mmm" Louisa responded absently as Joanie pulled away from her breast, a sleepy contented look in the baby's eyes. "Oh no you don't, little one. Time for a burp before you fall asleep. I don't want you crying with a tummy full of gas."

Louisa lifted the baby to her shoulder and patted her gently on the back until she heard the belch she knew was coming. "There that's good," she commended her daughter, and she propped Joanie into a sitting position on the table in front of her, smiling and cooing at her and engaging with her in some motherly baby talk.

Ruth gazed over at her, responding to her interaction with the baby with a goofy grin before she pulled her book out of her bag in order to read a few more pages before it was time for lunch.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

Louisa had just finished feeding the baby and had placed her in her cot when she heard Martin pull into the drive and turn off the car's engine. It was just past midnight; Martin had called her to say there had been a backup on the M5 near Swindon, and that he would be late. She looked into the boys' room one more time to ensure the beds were turned down and then jogged down the stairs.

There was a light rain, of course; there almost always was rain in Cornwall in the winter and she pulled on her wellies to help Martin with the boys. James had awakened and was rubbing his eyes. Martin had picked up Robert and advised Louisa, "Keep James here and I'll be right back for him. That way we don't have to put his shoes on." It was only a moment and he was back, gently carrying his oldest son out of the car and into the house. "Why don't you grab one of your bags and then come inside."

Louisa snatched up two of their bags and then ran into the house, dropping the bags inside the door, slipping the boots off her feet and running up the stairs to tuck each of her sons into their beds. Martin was just coming out of their room across the hall and was headed down to the car when Louisa came out of the boys' room. She pulled on his sleeve to stop him to give him a quick hug and kiss. "Wait until tomorrow to unpack. Come to bed."

He returned her hug and then asked, "How is Joanie?"

"She's fine. Please come to bed."

'Yes. I'll go make sure the car is closed up and bring in one or two more bags, and I'll be right up."

"Good. I'm going back to bed. You'll join me soon?" She was so happy to see him that her voice had a note of amorous anticipation to it which she hadn't meant to convey just then.

He had caught that tone and looked at her guardedly, then sighed, "Of course, but it's been a long day Louisa, and I'm tired…"

"Which is why you need to come straight to bed. You need your rest."

She saw relief briefly cross his face as he replied, "Yes," and she suddenly realised why he thought she wanted him to hurry to bed and she grinned, "Yes, tonight we sleep … but tomorrow night … " She cocked her head and gave him a mischievous grin.

He knew instantly what she had in mind for he had been thinking the same during the entire drive down to Cornwall and he pursed his mouth in a slight grin of his own, "Yes. Good. Tomorrow night. I'll just be a moment." Realising that he knew exactly what she had in mind for tomorrow night warmed her thoroughly and she considered trying to seduce him once he came to bed, but knew that would likely be unproductive. They were both tired and it would be their first time together since Joanie's birth. Best to wait until they could truly enjoy it, she decided, and she skipped lightly into their bedroom, crawled under the duvet, and was sound asleep before Martin slipped in beside her a few minutes later.

xxxxxxx

Louisa heard the baby rustle in her cot and looked at the clock … 7:30. The sky was beginning to get light even though the sun wasn't yet up over the horizon. Why her mind shot back to one of her science units on the movement of the earth as it circled the sun and the various types of twilight she would never know, but it did. She carefully slid out of bed and peeked through the curtains. The previous day was the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year and the sun wouldn't officially rise until after 8:00, but it was still fairly light outside … must be civil twilight she thought, when the sun is almost at the horizon, but not quite. She should refresh her memory about the various degrees of twilight; it would make for an interesting discussion with James.

Louisa had been up with the baby around half three for a feed, and Martin hadn't budged from his usual sleep position. He was tired and she didn't want to wake him so she straightened the curtain to keep the room dark and headed into the study where they had placed Joanie's cot. Their en-suite bathroom was actually tucked in between their room and the study with a door leading from the bathroom to each room. It was a simple matter of walking into the bathroom, closing that door and turning on the small lamp sitting on the table next to the overstuffed chair Martin used for reading. After she changed the baby's nappy, she settled into the chair and started to feed her, singing softly to herself. Suddenly the door opened and Martin peeked in, "Louisa?"

She raised her head and gave him a concerned look, "Oh, good morning. I had hoped not to wake you so you could sleep after the long drive yesterday."

"It's fine. It's time I arose – almost 8." He walked over to her side and gazed down at the two of them, distracting the baby who turned her head to see her father.

Louisa jiggled her a bit to return her attention to breakfast, and then looked up and smiled at him. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Good." He leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss. "I think I will take a shower and then go prepare some breakfast. The boys will be up soon."

'There's not much food in the house. Alicia left a casserole for Ruth and me last night and a loaf of bread and some milk for the children. We'll need to go to the village to stock up."

'I brought some bread and eggs and milk as well as some sliced chicken for sandwiches. I thought I might pick up some fish for dinner."

He stepped over to the window and opened the blinds, "Humph, it's still raining. I wonder if there are any vegetables in the garden."

"Not likely, but you can check before you go to market." Realizing that it was time to switch sides, Louisa lifted the baby to her shoulder and started to wind her.

"Let me wind her before I shower." He leaned over, carefully placed her on his shoulder and gently patted her back, tucking his face into her neck, closing his eyes and inhaling her baby scent. He lifted his eyes to his wife and gave her a gentle smile.

Joanie let out a loud belch which signalled time for him to return her to her mother. "I won't be long."

"Good. I think I heard Ruth pottering around downstairs a while back. I imagine she has put the coffee on. I'd love a cup of tea when you get down there."

"Of course."

Shortly after she heard Martin turn on the shower, a little blond head peeked in, "Mummy?"

She smiled at him and signalled that he should close the door and come in, "Robert, good morning."

He ran over to her and climbed onto her lap and hugged her tightly, jostling the baby who looked up and gave her brother what appeared to be a smile while jerking one of her hands up and down, "Well, I guess Joanie is finished with her breakfast."

"Look Mummy, Joanie is smiling at me." Robert reached over to Joanie and tickled her chest, grinning back at her.

" _No need to tell him that it's probably just gas_ " she thought as she replied, "Yes she is."

Whilst he was distracted with Joanie, she felt his bottom checking for the signs of a wet nappy, but it appeared to be dry. "Do you need to use the toilet?"

"No." Robert quickly replied, shaking his head back and forth.

"Why don't you go into the bathroom with Daddy and use our toilet anyway." Louisa knew that Robert, just like James before him, liked to use the big potty just like daddy. They had discovered that imitating their dad was a good way to encourage and speed up the toilet training process.

"Ok." Robert trotted over to their en-suite bathroom and opened the door, "Daddy. I use the potty, okay?"

Louisa could hear Martin turn off the shower and reply, "Yes, good. Do you need any help with your pyjama bottoms?"

Robert started grunting as he tried to pull off both his pyjamas and the night-time nappy, "No … ugh … ooof."

"Here, let me help … now step up on the stool and be sure to aim for the middle of the bowl."

"I know how to do it daddy."

"Yes … Robert!" Martin shouted. "Pay attention". It sounded as though Robert had sprayed Martin's leg thoroughly.

"Sorry daddy. I wipe your leg off."

She started to giggle as she heard Robert climb down from the step stool and unwind the paper from the roll.

"That's enough Robert."

A moment passed and then Robert exclaimed, "All dry now."

"Hmmm … yes … thank you Robert. Next time be more careful."

"Yes Daddy."

Robert opened the door and, leaving his pyjama bottoms lying on the floor, ran bare-bottomed out of the room and jumped back on Louisa's lap, leaving the door ajar so she could just see Martin turn the shower back on to rinse his leg before drying off from his shower. It was a sight that she couldn't help but appreciate and she found herself smiling at the sight of his unveiled masculinity, from his broad shoulders down to his long legs and all that fell in-between. He leaned over to finish drying his legs and noticed Robert's pyjama bottoms and he huffed in exasperation as he picked them up off the floor. As he straightened up, he saw her looking at him and blushed, covering himself with his towel.

She laughed, "Now, why did you do that? I was enjoying the view."

He tucked his chin into his neck, tugged on his ear, and gave her a sceptical look, "Yes, I noticed."

She grinned and laughed, then cocked her head to one side and gave him a beguiling look, "Later … yes?"

He returned her look with a seductive one of his own, "Yes."

He handed the pyjama bottoms to her and picked up Joanie and placed her in her cot. "Perhaps you could put Robert's pyjamas back on. I'll get dressed and check in with Ruth and get breakfast started. James should be up soon as well. We'll unpack after breakfast."

"Okay." She lifted Robert from her lap and stood him in front of her as she replaced his pyjamas. "You are such a big boy. I am so proud of you, going wee-wee in the toilet."

Robert grinned and puffed out his chest, very proud of himself indeed.

Louisa stood up and lifted Joanie out of her cot and guided Robert toward the door. "Now, let's go downstairs and see what Daddy is fixing for breakfast."

 **Author's note: I hope you enjoyed this short glimpse of the family on holiday at the farm. _The Women in his Life_ will go on hiatus for the month of June while the author holidays in and around Portwenn herself. Perhaps, if she is lucky, she will encounter our little family while she is there.**


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

Ruth had never considered the fact that she might become the matriarch of the Ellingham clan. That should have been her sister Joan's position, she had the maternal instincts, not Ruth herself. Yet as she sat there on the couch in the farmhouse lounge surrounded by Martin's family, she realised that indeed she had been entrusted with that role. True it was a small clan given that neither she nor Joan had had children and Christopher had only produced Martin to carry on the family name. They had all assumed that he would never marry, or if he were to marry, would certainly never have children. They expected the Ellingham name to die out with him; but he surprised them all by marrying and producing not one child, but three. Her father, _Daddy_ as she was never allowed to call him, would not have been surprised that Martin was continuing the family line. He had always had a soft spot for Martin. He knew there was more to Martin than the rest of the family recognised, and he would have been proud of the family he had created. At any rate, here she sat, baby bottle in hand, feeding Martin's youngest whilst he and Louisa made preparations for Christmas Eve dinner.

They had enjoyed a quiet weekend after their arrival on Friday evening, decorating the tree that Louisa's friend Alicia and her husband had set up in the lounge, and preparing simple family meals. Louisa and Martin had enveloped her as part of their family from the first, along with Joan, always including her in family celebrations. The boys just assumed that Graunty Ruth, or Graunty as they usually called her would be there for them, and they turned to her for help as often as they did either one of their parents.

She had never spent any time in the company of children, preferring to leave the whingy unformed little darlings to their parents, but James and Robert had opened her eyes to the charms of young children. They were delightful and nothing like her previous impression of children. Yes, they did have their arguments and periodic meltdowns, but they were also openly affectionate and gave her unconditional love; and, despite her stated distain for the name, she loved being Graunty, the name James had given her when saying Great Aunty Ruth was too hard when he was first learning to talk.

Robert and James were playing with the train set that Martin had played with here in this very room as a child. He had pulled it out of the loft and set it up on a table in a corner of the lounge their first day here at Havenhurst Farm, the de facto Ellingham family homestead. At the moment, James was absorbed with arranging the tracks just so, but Robert was becoming restless. He tried to move one of the train cars that James had meticulously placed on the tracks, and James cried out, "Stop it Robert. You're going to mess things up."

"Me play too!" Robert replied in a loud voice.

James looked toward his parents for help, "Daddy, Mummy, can you take Robert away. He's destroying my train set-up."

Martin looked up from the vegetables he was preparing and gave both the boys a look that could have silenced any one of his registrars, sternly chastising them, "James, find a way to share the train. Robert, you can play with one of the train cars."

James returned his Dad's black look, but reluctantly gave up one of the train cars for Robert to play with; and Robert grabbed it holding it close to his chest as he walked around the lounge and looked out the windows at the drive circling the front of the house. Louisa's brother and his family were due to arrive at any minute. His girls, Amelia and Abigail doted on the boys and he was looking forward to having someone besides his brother to play with. He kept asking "When 'Melia and Abby be here?"

"Robert", Ruth called out to him, whilst patting the seat next to her. "They will be here as soon as they can. In the meantime, why don't you go get one of your Thomas train books and I'll read you a story."

"Can baby Joanie listen too?"

"Of course."

He ran to find the book and then jumped up on the sofa next to her and opened the book to the first page. She started reading just as the baby finished her bottle.

"Oh dear, Robert, can you pass me that blanket please?" She threw it over her shoulder and patted Joanie on the back, then resumed reading Robert's book. As she continued the story about the little engine and his railway friends on the Island of Sodor, Robert cuddled up closer to her. He looked so sweet sitting there with his head tucked under her arm that she couldn't resist leaning down to give him a kiss on his head. " _My, my_ ", she thought, _"I'm certainly getting sentimental in my old age. On the other hand, it is nice to be appreciated."_ She blinked back a single tear that welled up in her eyes, a maudlin physical reaction to the touch of another person, and she shifted her thoughts to how complicated life could be with three young children. Louisa often said she didn't know what they would do without her, a statement she usually pooh-poohed, but now she was beginning to see the truth in it.

When Martin had first renovated the farmhouse, he had opened up the wall between the kitchen and the lounge to encourage family interaction. Ruth was certain that was Louisa's idea as Martin was never one to think about encouraging interaction between family members. She remembered Joan's absolute conviction that Martin was already planning on marrying Louisa when he started the renovation because he consulted her on nearly every change that was made. Whoever made that decision didn't matter; the result was that she could see into the kitchen and observe Martin and Louisa as they prepared the holiday meal.

On their way down to Cornwall, Louisa had confided that she was looking forward to having Martin all to themselves and from what Ruth had been able to observe, her wish had been fulfilled. They were busy at work, chopping vegetables and stirring a sauce or two, but through it all they kept close, with Louisa occasionally placing her hand on Martin's back as they huddled over a recipe or debated the best way to prepare this dish or that. Martin would rest his hand on her shoulder as she stirred a pot or give her a loving glance as she held up a spoon for him to taste the sauce for the inevitable fish they were planning for supper. Louisa herself was glowing; it was obvious she was receiving the attention that she craved from him, and Martin himself seemed more relaxed than usual, content is how Ruth would describe it, perhaps even happy. Ruth's psychologist's mind was certain that, despite the distraction of three children, the physical intimacy that they must be enjoying on this trip was doing both of them a world of good.

Ruth could only hope that the congenial atmosphere would continue once Alan and his family arrived. Louisa's brother and his wife were gentle souls, and their girls were loving towards the younger Ellingham's. But Ruth remembered many previous family occasions when the four of them arrived, when the boys couldn't contain their excitement, squealing and jumping up and down as they vied for attention from the two girls and their Uncle Alan especially. It could easily descend into bedlam, and it wouldn't be long before the boys had Alan out in the yard playing football or down on the floor wrestling and rough-housing as Martin looked on astounded at the behaviour of his otherwise well-mannered children.

Ruth stretched to look out the lounge windows to check on the weather, grateful to see that the rain, which had greeted them off and on all weekend appeared to have stopped for good. The sky was a brilliant blue. All could be sent outside if need be when the atmosphere became too raucous. In fact, Ruth suspected she would be relieved from her responsibilities as Joanie's minder once they arrived. The girls couldn't wait to meet their new cousin; and as Amelia was now sixteen and Abigail, or Abby as she preferred to be called, was twelve, both were old enough now to entrust with the care of a new-born.

She continued to read Robert's book and as they were finishing, Joanie gave a grunt and soon a distinct odour wafted up from her nappy. Changing dirty nappies was one of the tasks that she had never willingly taken on so she called out, "Martin, your youngest could use a nappy change."

Martin was slicing bread for the meal and put down the knife and walked over to Ruth. "Did she finish her bottle?"

"Yes, she did. And I've winded her as well. Obviously, her gastrointestinal track was stimulated and thus we have a full nappy." She handed the baby up to his waiting arms, "She's all yours."

As Martin walked away with Joanie, Robert looked up at his aunt and asked in his sweetest voice, "Read it again, G'aunty … please?"

Ruth gave him one of her infamous wry looks and replied, also in her sweetest voice, 'I will be happy to read it again Robert, but I need a cup of tea before I begin. Can you sit here quietly whilst I go get a cuppa?"

"Okay."

Ruth rose and, as she headed into the kitchen, she heard Robert begin to "read" his book without her. After listening to the story innumerable times, he had memorized every page, as had she. She was certain that he was as brilliant as his father and older brother before him, not that she was biased in any way whatsoever.

The sound of tyres crunching on the gravel driveway announced the arrival of their guests, and Robert jumped up from the sofa and ran to the door. James joined him in a flash as did Louisa, and Ruth followed them, only a few steps behind. Etiquette required that she greet the new arrivals and quite frankly, she liked Louisa's family. She greeted them warmly and offered to take several of the presents they were unloading from their vehicle into the house and place them under the tree. Soon enough everyone was inside the house, gathered in the kitchen, all talking at once. She smiled to herself as she observed Martin enter the lounge, pause to review the scene and whisper some bon mot into his daughter's ear before steeling himself to join the joyful pandemonium now reigning in his home.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

Margaret sat back in the taxi as it crawled through the streets on its way to Christopher's care home, and she stared out the window at the passing buildings, lost in thought. They drove past a church where the congregants were streaming out, smiling and greeting each other with Christmas wishes. Ah yes, Christmas Day; she remembered attending Christmas Day services at this very church when she and Christopher had lived in London, and she wondered if she would have recognised any of the congregants had she dropped in for some words of spiritual comfort.

Spiritual comfort … God knew she needed something to lift her spirits. These past weeks in London had been some of the most difficult of her life. She had never felt so alone, with no one to comfort her through the long hours spent in hospital where Christopher had been recovering, if it could be called that, after the procedure that Martin's colleague had performed. It was supposed to clear the blockages that were causing his small strokes, and they told her that it had been successful. Martin had confirmed their assessment, but he also cautioned that Christopher had already experienced extensive damage by the time they had arrived in London. Now, he seemed to be slipping deeper into senility.

It was challenging enough to watch that happen and know that he would no longer be able to take care of her, but she was concerned that there might be no one to step in once he was gone. Martin had grudgingly taken her to visit Christopher's solicitor and his bankers, and he had helped her set up a schedule to follow to pay their bills and such, but it was all so confusing. She would have to rely on him to take over once Christopher had died, but he was so unpleasant about the entire situation that she dreaded that day when it would inevitably come.

The only bright light in her life at the moment was her friend Carlotta, who was in town to spend the holidays with her son and his family. They had met for lunch several times in the past two weeks and Carly had even accompanied Margaret one afternoon to visit Christopher. She was all sympathy for Margaret's plight. She had been through something similar when her first husband, Reginald had died a number of years ago. He had been in a coma for several months after a tragic car accident and Carly had spent those months by his side in hospital and then in a care facility. Margaret had to listen patiently as she recounted over and over all the hospitalizations and procedures that Reginald had to endure. It had become a tedious litany, but it was a small price to pay for having some company in this big city.

Carly had even invited her to spend Christmas Eve with her family and several other guests. It was a delightful respite from the dreariness of the care home and the loneliness of her stylishly furnished but impersonal flat. Of course, Carly's grandchildren, the twins, were completely out of hand. Whatever happened to the old adage that children should be seen and not heard? Fortunately, they were ushered off to bed by eight pm with the reminder that Father Christmas would only come if they were sound asleep. After they were snug in their beds, drinks were served and the real festivities began. Several colleagues of Carly's son were invited and one of them, Wilson Margate, a senior solicitor in his firm was especially attentive to Margaret which made the evening even more enjoyable. He had hinted that he would enjoy meeting for lunch one day and she had let him know that she would like that very much.

Carly and her husband Geoffrey were planning to attend a Boxing Day party at the home of some old friends and they had asked Margaret to join them. She was hoping to make some new acquaintances at that event as well. Carly had met Geoffrey at one such event only months after her first husband had passed. If Margaret were able to meet one or two single men at one of these events all the better. It wouldn't hurt to get a head start on husband number two. Perhaps she wouldn't be so dependent on Martin if she could find another husband. Some might consider her attitude inappropriate, even crass, while Christopher was still alive, she reflected with a sniff, but she needed to be practical if she were to land on her feet after his passing.

In the meantime, it _was_ Christmas Day and she was expected to spend at least a portion of the day with Christopher. After the taxi dropped her off, she opened the door to the care home where he had been placed after spending nearly four weeks in hospital. They were lucky to have snagged a room in this particular facility, considered one of the best in London. It was light and airy and the staff was competent and caring, but she hated every minute that she had to spend there. She longed to be back home, back in their villa in Portugal, preparing for their annual holiday party. If he had to get ill, why couldn't it have been after the new year.

She walked down the hall leading to Christopher's room, barely noticing the fairy lights strung up near the ceiling and over the doorways to each room. The holiday decorations were tastefully done and the music wafting from the speakers set up throughout the facility leaned toward classic Christmas carols. No "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" would ever blare from those speakers. Carly's grandchildren couldn't get enough of that tune the day before when she visited for Christmas Eve dinner. No, no amount of holiday cheer could lift the despair that followed her down the hall past room after room occupied by the desperately ill and disabled. Thank God Christopher was given a private room; so many of the rooms were doubles and there was no telling with whom one might find sharing the room. Things could be worse, she kept reminding herself.

" _Put on a happy face."_ That was the advice the doctors' and nurses gave her to help Christopher keep a positive attitude, to aid in his recovery. That was one thing she knew how to do. She had been putting on a happy face for years through all of the dinners with hospital donors, stuffy bankers and arrogant financiers. She knew how to be charming when she had to be; her mother had instilled the importance of a welcoming visage long before her coming out.

She opened the door to his room and noticed that he was sitting upright in an armchair with the television tuned to a golf tournament. _"Well that should improve his spirits. He loves his golf."_ She put on her happy face and walked over to the bed and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. "Happy Christmas, dear."

"Yes, yes, Happy Christmas to you too, although I don't know what's happy about it. When can we go home? I'm itching to get back on the course. Look at these players, none of them are any good in the traps, and they can't sink a putt. I could out play them any day of the year."

He picked nervously at the edge of the blanket the staff had placed over his lap and glared at her, "Where's Martin. He needs to get me out of here. I haven't seen him in weeks. What kind of a son is he to leave me languishing here in this dump?"

"Now Christopher, you aren't well." She replied to this rant with a sweet smile on her face, effused with concern.

"Well, where is he? He should be checking in every day. He could give me the right treatments, that's what our doctor in Portugal said … Ellingham is the best, and then he pawns me off on an underling."

"Christopher, you know it's unethical for him to treat a family member. He says Mr. Brendall is excellent. He trained him himself."

Christopher wouldn't let this go. He had been ranting about Martin's lack of concern for weeks even when Martin was in town and making frequent checks.

"Martin was here late last week, just before he left for the holiday."

"Left where?"

"I told you before, he went to Cornwall with his family for the holidays." His memory lapses were getting worse; she had told him that Martin was in Cornwall every day for the past four days.

He twisted his hand into a fist and punched the air as he grimaced. "Ah right … married that fisherman's daughter, breeding with her, spawning out one brat after another. Disgusting. Isn't he head of department? He should be here watching over things." Evidently his memory wasn't quite as bad as she thought, or perhaps it was just selective. Whatever it was, it was becoming very tiresome.

After he had found James' picture and she had told him that Martin was married with two children, they had never discussed Martin's family, that is, until they first consulted with Martin over a month ago, when Martin had to make a quick exit to attend his wife as she gave birth to their third child.

"Why ever is he gone to Cornwall in the winter?" he had demanded.

She explained, "You remember Joan left him the farm when she passed, and his wife grew up in Portwenn. It's their holiday home."

"Wife's probably a fisherman's daughter. Did Joan introduce them?"

"No, they met here in London, as I understand it, in hospital." Should she tell him that Louisa actually was a fisherman's daughter? No, that bit of information would really set him off.

"Joan married that farmer, no sense at all. She probably encouraged Martin to marry below his station just to spite me … dreadful woman. We should never have let him spend those summers with her on the farm."

Margaret needed to distract him and she looked at her watch. It was nearly noon. "They will be serving Christmas dinner in the dining room in just a few minutes. Why don't we go down there and join in the festivities?"

"I'm not properly dressed."

"You look very nice, very festive in your wool trousers and red Christmas jumper, very dashing if I do say so myself. You'll be the most handsome man there."

Christopher pulled himself up proudly, "Yes, that's true. Most of these blokes here are ancient, hunched over relics of their former selves. I'm still hale and fit, just have to recover from this surgery and I'll be back out on the course."

Margaret retrieved his wheelchair from the corner where it sat and wheeled it over to his bedside. "Perhaps I should call one of the aides to help you out of the chair."

"No need. I can manage it." He started to pull himself up, but was unable to rise more than an inch or so before dropping back down, but he continued to try. "Damn chair. It's too low. Come over here and help me."

Margaret had slipped out into the hall to ask for an aide before she fetched the chair, and she now stepped back from his side and replied with consideration,"Now Christopher, you know I'm not strong enough to lift you. An aide should be here momentarily."

In an effort to distract him, she turned toward the television, "Now tell me about this match. Who is playing?"

The ploy worked and he began to tell her all about it, pointing out the various players along with their handicaps and their position on the board. What he saw in this game eluded her, as it always had; but if it kept him engaged and distracted from his current situation, then she wasn't going to complain. The aide was slower than she had anticipated and it was a good five minutes before they were able to wheel him down the hall to the dining room to enjoy the surprisingly delicious institutional Christmas dinner.

Just as she had thought, he was able to enjoy the company of the other patients. He was always a very social person, never met a stranger, and the limitations his stroke had placed on his memory and logic didn't seem to affect his ability to make new friends. Thank God, she thought to herself as she watched him charm the dining room staff and his fellow diners. He looked like the Christopher of old, the one she fell in love with all those years ago. She remembered some of the wonderful times they had had and briefly grieved their loss. What had happened to them? It was all Martin's fault, and soon she would be dependent on him. Life really wasn't fair.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

Margaret woke the next morning filled with delight at the thought of spending her afternoon and evening in the company of some of London's most pleasant society. Carly and Geoffrey were well connected and the Boxing Day open house to which they were taking her was bound to be a very pleasant diversion from her more recent London society. Nonetheless she had to put in an appearance at Christopher's care facility, and she arrived just before noon with the same sense of dread she had felt every previous day. Once again, he was absorbed in a golf match on the television and was so wrapped up in the game that he didn't notice her arrival. She greeted him and attempted to give him a kiss, but he pushed her away. "Can't you see that I'm busy. I haven't time for your 'pleasantries'." He spat out the word "pleasantries" as if it were poisonous.

"I just wanted to see you, make sure everything was alright," she replied in what she thought was a placating tone.

"If you really cared about me, you'd get that ingrate Martin to come and release me. It's like a prison. They won't even give me a phone so I can call him myself."

He saw her glance over to the bedside table where a phone sat within easy reach of both his bed and the armchair in which he was sitting, and he snarled, "That phone is useless, can't get it to work and they won't replace it. Like I said, I need to get out of here."

There were several holiday cards sitting on the bedside table and she busied herself examining them, noticing that several of his friends had sent very uplifting notes, commenting on how they all missed his presence on the course and encouraging him to heal quickly. She walked over to the guest chair and sat down. Nodding her head towards the cards, she tried to engage him in conversation, "I see that your friends are missing you, hoping you will be back to play with them."

His only reply was a bitter, "Humph"

She continued, "Did you have your therapy session this morning?"

He shook his head irritably, and raised both fists in the air, punching some imaginary foe, growling, "Total waste of time. Won't let me ambulate on my own. Put a leash around my waist, like a dog and insist I hold on to the railing while an aide leads me down the ramp. Felt like a damn fool."

"Were you able to walk down the ramp?"

"Of course I could walk. They seem to think I'm some kind of invalid."

She wondered at his response, but took it at face value, and said in an encouraging tone, "I'm glad to hear you were able to walk. That's good news." She stood up and walked toward his wheelchair sitting by the door, "It's time for lunch. Let's go down to the dining room. You enjoyed it so much yesterday."

She called for an aide, then rolled the wheelchair closer to where he was sitting. Just as he had the day before he tried to pull himself up to pivot into the wheel chair and was unable to rise more than an inch or so. Making a second effort, he managed to use his arms to pull himself upright, then took a step towards the chair before he crumpled down onto the floor.

"Don't just stand there, woman, help me up." He shouted at Margaret, who stood by helplessly, knowing full well she was not able to lift him.

Moments later, an aide rushed in," Mr. Ellingham. I've told you not to try to get up without one of us nearby to make sure you don't fall."

The aide reached into the cupboard and pulled out a wide safety belt and crouched down to wrap it around Christopher's waist. He slapped at her, crying out, "Don't touch me. I can do this myself."

She took a step to the phone on the table and made a call, requesting assistance, then looked down at him with compassion. To Margaret, whose face reflected the horror she was feeling at that moment, she said, "It's very difficult for our patients when they are unable to do what they have been doing all their lives. It's a difficult transition, and it's not unusual for them to lash out in frustration. You mustn't be alarmed."

To Christopher, she was a little more authoritative. "Now Mr. Ellingham, I need you to cooperate with me if you want to get up off the floor."

"No. You need to remember that I am a renowned surgeon, and should be treated with the utmost respect. Get my wife out of here. She doesn't need to see me like this."

"Mrs. Ellingham, perhaps you could go out into the hall. There is a comfortable lounge just to the right a few steps down; you can wait there and I will let you know when Mr. Ellingham is more comfortable."

Margaret did as she was told, making her way down to the lounge which was done up in peaceful shades of blue and green. There were comfortable armchairs scattered about in groups of three or four, with the latest magazines and newspapers resting on tables nearby. In a nook off to the side was a big screen television showing a news program with the sound so low it was barely audible in the rest of the lounge. Generic holiday tunes were still playing over the speakers which only highlighted, to Margaret, a sense of despair for those "incarcerated" in this facility.

She found a secluded seat tucked back in a corner near a window, sat down and thought about Christopher's condition. _How_ could such a vital man end his days in a place like this. Was there anything more that could be done for him? Should she be doing something about it? Should she take him back to Portugal? He might be happier there if he could join his cronies for drinks even if he couldn't play on the course with them. Carly's husband had visited him twice since they arrived and his visits cheered Christopher enormously, but they would be leaving in a few days just before the end of the year to return to Portugal for the big New Year's Eve gala at the club. She wondered if anyone was holding a dinner party that night in her stead; it was one of the highlights of the holiday season, a time for her to shine, and she missed the attention. No one here seemed to know who she was; she was just the wife of one of the many invalids warehoused in this facility, a nobody.

She herself would love to return to their home in Portugal, return to a semblance of their life there. But, even if she could take him back to Portugal, there was no way she could care for him on her own; she would have to hire help. Was that kind of help easy to find? She was full of questions with no one to turn to. Martin, she must make Martin help.

As she was thinking this over, the aide came to retrieve her and take her back to Christopher's room. "We have given Mr. Ellingham something to make him less anxious and have ordered his meal to be brought to his room. You might want to stay to help him eat."

She wondered at this last suggestion. His had developed a slight palsy in his hands since arriving in London, but he had still been able to feed himself. Why should she help him eat? She followed the aide back to his room where he was sitting in his armchair, passively staring at the golf match still playing on the screen.

"Hello Chris." She walked over to his side and sat in the chair reserved for visitors. "They will be bringing your dinner in a few minutes."

"Yes," he grunted still staring at the screen.

Rather than engage him in conversation, she pulled her book out of her handbag and opened it up for a few minutes until the dinner cart arrived with his meal. The aide moved his table over to his chair and adjusted the height before setting down the tray. The meal looked appetizing, a nice filet of fish with a mango salsa, rice pilaf, and a side of asparagus with a ribbon of bernaise sauce. There was a soft white dinner roll with a pat of butter and a pot of tea, as well as a good-sized portion of chocolate cake for afters.

"Do you want any help?"

Ignoring her offer of assistance, Christopher picked up his fork and stabbed one of the asparagus spears, shakily raising it to his mouth. Margaret leaned forward in her chair and watched over him warily, thinking he had manged well so far; he might not need her help. He fumbled with the salmon dropping the first piece on his trousers as well as the second piece he tried to eat.

"Here, let me help," She reached over to take the fork from him, but he glared at her swatting her hand.

"I can manage. I don't need you to feed me like a child."

He continued to fumble with his fork, dropping more than half of his meal on his lap, but refusing any help.

"Perhaps I can pour your tea for you," she offered as she picked up the teapot, but again he swatted her away causing her to nearly drop the teapot and spilling some of the still hot liquid on his hand, prompting him to shout out at her clumsiness.

Giving up, she bade him good-bye and left the room. She staggered down the hall toward the lounge thankful that it was nearly deserted. What was she going to do? She couldn't manage this any longer. She pulled out her phone and rang Martin.

His phone rang and rang, and just as she was expecting to reach his answer phone, she heard him pick up with a hesitant greeting, "Mum?"

"Martin. I'm at your father's care home and he's become unmanageable. I need you to come back here immediately and make things right."

A few seconds passed, perhaps longer, "Martin? Did you hear me?"

"Mmm. Yes. Tell me exactly what the problem is."

"He's becoming violent. Belligerent. They gave him something to calm him down, but now he can't feed himself, won't let me help and refuses any help, just lashes out at anyone who tries."

He responded quickly, using his professional surgeon's voice, "Right. This type of behaviour isn't all that unusual with the type of brain damage that Dad has experienced. There is really nothing that I can do."

"He keeps yelling for you to come and get him out of here. You need to come … now." She put a forceful emphasis on the word now, hoping he would feel compelled to help.

"As I said, there is nothing that I can do for him, ethically. And even if I were allowed to treat him, there is little that I could do that Mr. Brendall could not do as well. I will contact him and ask that he monitor Dad's medications and treatment more closely. And I will have him give you the contact information for the hospital social workers who can help you cope with this new stage in Dad's life."

"Martin!" She interrupted.

"That's the best I can do. Good-bye."

He hung up. He hung up on her! She was stunned. How dare he refuse to help her, now when she needed it most. She sank further down into the couch, shocked at his lack of concern.

It had been drizzling when she arrived, but the sun had come out and she saw that as an omen. It was time to leave. There was nothing for her to do here and she had the party to attend this afternoon. She needed the diversion of holiday cheer. Hoping she would find it with Carly and Geoffrey and perhaps a few others, she rose, went to the ladies to freshen her make-up and asked the front desk to call her a taxi to take her to her flat to prepare for the party. She needed to look her best. After all, there was always the possibility of meeting a special someone, and she brightened at the prospect.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

Louisa was standing next to Martin at the Parson's boxing day open house, her arm wrapped around his waist whilst they listened to one of Chris' staff regaling them with an entertaining story about an eccentric lab technician. Just as he was finishing the story and the other guests were laughing, she heard Martin's mobile buzz. Even though he was on holiday, he kept his mobile with him at all times for the occasional call from hospital. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and scowled when he glanced at the screen before excusing himself to take the call outside.

Louisa had though it must be an emergency at hospital, especially as he returned to the party under a dark cloud. When she asked him if he was okay, he replied with his usual, "Mmm … later." Martin had been very engaged with all the guests that afternoon, conversing amiably and even chuckling at the occasional joke. Whatever news that call contained must have been quite disturbing because his demeanor changed back to the somber taciturn Martin of old. As promised, later that night when they were preparing for bed, he told her all about it, and she was distressed to learn that his mother had called demanding his help. Their holiday had been so happy; why did that woman have to disrupt it?

He always enjoyed the Parsons' open house. Even when it was a small gathering as it was this year, there were enough attendees with medical backgrounds to keep him engaged. It was unfortunate that his mother had to call in the middle of the party insisting that he return to London to deal with his father who was becoming more and more belligerent. Secretly she was proud of him for standing up to her, but they both knew Margaret would be demanding his attention once they returned to London. Knowing that made their time in Cornwall even more precious.

She had plumped the pillows on the bed, and was sitting against them as she watched him hang up the suit he had worn to the party and lay out a fresh suit, shirt and tie for Joanie's christening the next day

"It was good that you rang off with your mum today," She thought it might be good for him to discuss it.

"There was nothing more to say."

"I suppose … but still."

He cocked his head, "Brendall will take care of it."

"I hope so."

"Mmm." He slipped into bed, sitting up against his pillows and leaned over to kiss her, giving her a questioning look. She knew what that look with the raised eyebrow meant, and she lifted her own eyebrow as she gave him a wry smile and slid over to straddle his lap, responding to his look with a kiss and a seductive, "Uh hum."

He slid his hands under her pyjama top, caressing her back in slow circles, "Good."

She shuddered at his touch and kissed him tenderly, "I had a really nice time today."

He was only half listening to her, lost in the physical sensations that her body always aroused in his, but she continued, "I always like going to the Boxing Day open house at the Parsons. It makes me think back to the first time I went … with you."

He relaxed further into the pillows and let a half smile cross his face, "Mmmm … yes."

"That night was the first time you kissed me. Do you remember?"

He responded with a soft smile, "I do."

She started to explore under his pyjama top, "I don't think I will ever forget that kiss. I wanted you so badly."

He brushed the loose hair off her shoulders, and replied, "Mmmm …. As I did you."

She leaned in to hug him gently, burying her face into the base of his neck, and murmured, "Mr. Ellingham, you make me very happy, do you know that?"

He lifted her head up and gave her a delicate kiss, "Good." He continued to caress her cheek and looked deep into her eyes, then cradled her head in his hands as he kissed her more deeply, "Very good."

xxXxx

Two nights later, she lay in bed waiting for Martin to finish his evening ablutions and she thought about the past several days, full of the holiday's celebrations and festivities. What with Christmas Eve and Christmas Day spent with her brother and his family, the Boxing Day trip over to the Parsons' in Truro and Joanie's christening the day after, they had had a full slate of revelry with very little time to themselves until today. Tomorrow she would take the boys to the village holiday celebration whilst Martin and Ruth stayed home with Joanie.

She remembered back to when she and Martin were courting, how concerned she had been about his social skills, that he would resist her need to spend time with friends. She needn't have worried. True, even now, nearly ten years later, he rarely seemed to enjoy their evenings out, standing stoically next to her side, responding to anyone who tried to draw him out in short one or two-word responses. When she tried to comfort him saying she knew how much he hated these outings, he responded, "It's fine. I enjoy being near you." He would never be the life of the party, but he was usually willing to escort her whenever she wanted to go out. He might not say much, but he was there and he frequently found one or two fellow souls with whom to commiserate on the banalities that passed for small talk in so many of these situations. And they had developed a close circle of friends, both here in Cornwall and in London whose company they both valued.

This week he actually seemed to enjoy the festivities … most of the time. Fortunately, he found the company of her brother Alan and his wife Annie pleasant which was a relief because family could be the most difficult people with whom to socialize. He still had trouble with her mother who seemed to enjoy winding him up; fortunately, she rarely joined them at Christmas and was not here this year even though Joanie was being christened. Of course, he had his parents; perhaps they supplied all the family angst that any one person could be expected to endure.

Joanie's christening was a special day for the family and their close Cornwall friends, Alicia and Stefan, and Chris and Michelle Parsons, who were just like family. Ruth and Alan's wife Annie were Joanie's godmothers, and they had tapped Danny Parsons, Chris and Michelle's oldest to be her godfather. Danny was so sweet, taking his duties very seriously; and at the luncheon afterwards at the farmhouse, he frequently could be found carrying her about, making sweet baby talk with her despite his younger sisters' teasing.

Little Joanie couldn't have been a better baby; she was transfixed by the service, seeming to watch every move made by the vicar, solemnly gazing into the vicar's eyes as she made the sign of the cross on her forehead as if she understood the significance of every word. She merely blinked her eyes and wriggled a bit when the vicar poured the water over her head and intoned the words, "Louisa Joan Ellingham, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen" It was only at the end when everyone present clapped to welcome her into the family of the church that she startled and began to cry. That was when Martin took her from Ruth's arms and held her close to his chest to comfort her. Louisa had to wipe away a few tears as she saw her gruff husband be so gentle with her. He was always that way with their babies so she shouldn't have been surprised, but she found herself overcome with emotion, " _Must be the postnatal hormones still affecting my emotions._ " She immediately thought, and then secretly laughed at herself, " _I'm beginning to sound like Martin, always attributing my feelings to some medical condition."_

With most of their social obligations over, this day had been serene. Martin took the quiet time to retreat to his study to work on a paper he was writing on one of his research projects. Ruth had taken the car to visit with an old friend who was down in Truro for the holidays, and Alan and Annie had made a trip into Wadebridge to visit with one of his old school mates, leaving Amelia and Abby on the farm with them. The girls were wonderfully attentive with the boys, helping them learn to play with the gifts that Father Christmas had brought, a wooden train set for Robert and a simple chess set for James. When the sun came out after lunch, all four of them went outside to play football.

Martin turned off the light in the bathroom and slipped into the bed next to her, lying on his back with his hands folded across his chest, his usual sleeping position. She propped her head up on her hand and smiled at him, leaning over to give him a chaste kiss. "Making progress on your paper? I heard you on the phone today. Any problems?"

Martin had been on the phone several times over the course of the morning and early afternoon, long words with Latin roots, and she knew he was discussing his research with one of his colleagues. Once or twice, she stood outside of the study door to listen to him. She was always impressed by his knowledge and abilities. When they were courting, she frequently felt far beneath him and wondered why he had chosen her. She was intelligent, she knew that, but she wasn't in his league and couldn't comprehend what she could offer him as a life's companion, but the longer they were together, she began to realise that she had a kind of emotional intelligence that he would never have and that he relied on her more and more to fill that emptiness in his psyche. Listening to him today brought back those old fears. She pushed them down trying to deny the feelings, but they refused to lie still. As she listened to his conversations, she wondered if she would ever feel comfortable about the differences in their educational backgrounds and professional achievements. Well, she refused to let those fears ruin her holiday, not tonight.

'No problems. Just one or two points that needed clarification. We made good progress today. I should be able to finalise the first draft and e-mail it to Brendall by Monday."

"Ah. Did he say anything about your mother?"

She asked the question without thinking and saw him wince before replying, "Yes. He had Miss Newcross contact social services and give Mum their number. They will contact her if she doesn't do so by Monday."

"Good." She wrapped her arm around his chest and snuggled into his side." "I saw Abby join you on your walk out to the cliffs this afternoon. It appeared that you and she had a very serious conversation."

"Hmmm."

"I've noticed how she listens carefully whenever you speak, especially when you and Annie talk medicine. I think she admires you."

"Perhaps." He paused and let out a sigh. "She wanted to know if girls could be surgeons."

"Really?" Louisa was slightly confused. "Isn't Annie a surgical nurse? Surely she has mentioned one or two women who are surgeons."

"Apparently Annie doesn't have a very high regard for surgeons. According to Abby, Annie doesn't think they are very nice people, and she calls them arrogant male chauvinist pigs. Which is why Abby thought that girls couldn't be surgeons."

"Oh my, that _is_ disturbing. What did you tell her?"

"I wonder if Annie thinks I'm a male chauvinist pig." He shrugged his shoulders and picked at a loose thread on the duvet cover. "We really need to purchase a new cover for the duvet. This one is becoming shabby."

"It's fine Martin, just a little worn, but still quite serviceable." She had brought it down to the farm when she had redecorated their London bedroom shortly after Robert's birth. It was the one he had used on his bed when they were first married, and it _was_ getting old and starting to fray at the edges, but she saw no reason to replace it just yet. Martin could be such a snob sometimes.

"Humph."

"So … Annie thinks surgeons are male chauvinist pigs, does she? I hope you didn't ask Abby what her mother thinks of you."

'I'm not completely insensitive Louisa. No. I did tell her that many women were surgeons. I told her, in fact, that the surgeon who delivered Joanie was a woman."

"Not that we'd want to discuss her." Louisa answered him sarcastically, propping herself back up on her hand.

"No. But she did want to know why we needed a surgeon when Joanie was born."

"Oh dear. What did you tell her?" Louisa was apprehensive because even though Martin wasn't completely insensitive, he might be a little more forthright than necessary about these matters when explaining them to a twelve-year old girl.

"I explained how babies in utero move around, and that sometimes they are in a position that is not favourable for a natural birth, and that it is safer for the doctor to make an incision in the mother's abdomen and take the baby out that way."

"How did she handle that information?"

"Seemed to be fine."

"Good."

They lay there for a few quiet minutes, Louisa absently trailing her fingers across Martin's chest as he started to drift into sleep. "By the way, my dear husband. I would never consider you a male chauvinist pig – you are equally arrogant to everyone, male or female."

His eyes opened, and she could see his eyebrows lift sceptically, "Humph."

"And I love you anyway."

"Good." He bent his head over and kissed her on the cheek, then continued, "She asked me if I thought she could become a surgeon."

"I hope you encouraged her."

"Yes. I told her to study hard, especially her Biology, and Chemistry and Latin. Get good marks."

"I've heard Annie brag on her school marks, on both girls actually."

"I told her that I plan to get James a frog to dissect for his birthday next summer, that I'd bring one for her to try if she wanted. She seemed to find that exciting."

"We should check with Alan and Annie to make sure it's fine with them."

"Why?"

"Well, it's always possible that they will think she is too young for such an activity. It's best to inform them in advance. I'll speak to them tomorrow."

"I was five when my grandfather gave me my first frog to dissect."

"Yes, I know, but not all children are as curious or precocious as you were."

"Humph … Undoubtedly she will be exposed to dissection at school in the next few years.

I suppose you are right."

"Yes."

Louisa had discouraged Martin from exposing James to dissection for the last two years. She still had reservations, but she knew it was important to Martin and had promised him that he could introduce the subject to James next summer for his seventh birthday. He was anxious to share his passion with his oldest son and she didn't want to discourage him any longer. However, she had no idea how Annie would feel about her daughter dissecting a frog under Martin's supervision.

Martin yawned and reached over to turn off the bedside light. He leaned over to give Louisa a kiss, "Good night."

"Mmm. Goodnight."

Ever since the night of the Parson's party, the tension that Martin had managed to lose during their time at the farm had returned; as she snuggled deep into the bedclothes next to him, she could still sense an undercurrent of anxiety coursing through his limbs. There was a way to distract him, she knew, even if its effects lasted just a short time. And after a few minutes, unable to resist the nearness of her husband, she slipped her hand under his pyjama top and started to caress his stomach, working her way upwards.

"Louisa, what are you doing?"

She pushed his shirt up higher and started to trail kisses across his chest, "Mmm. What do you think I'm doing? Hmm?"

Perching herself up further on his chest, she found his lips in the darkness and kissed him more sensuously than a good-night kiss warranted. He pushed her up to peer at her face and said, "You have become insatiable this week Mrs. Ellingham."

"Yes, I want to take full advantage of having you all to myself."

He kissed her back lightly as he deftly loosened the buttons on her pyjamas with his thumb and forefinger, "Right … all to yourself if you ignore Aunt Ruth and the three children."

"Martin, shut up and make love with me."

"Very well," he groused, and before she realised what he was doing, he had stripped her of her nightclothes, and cupping her bottom in his hands to pull her close to him, he buried his face in her neck smothering it with the titillating kisses he learned years ago would drive her mad.

"Martin", she squealed, surprised that he had acted so spontaneously.

He pulled his head back to look at her, puzzled, "What?" He skipped a beat, "Did I hurt you?"

"No, it's just …. "she hesitated, not certain why she had called out his name.

"What?" He put his hands on her shoulders to lift her so he could see her face more clearly in the pale starlight streaming in though the unshaded windows. "I thought you wanted … "

"I do, "she whispered back, leaning down to kiss him softly. "I do." She giggled a bit and rolled over onto her side pulling him with her. "You surprised me is all."

She reached down to pull up his t-shirt, "We need to dispose of this first, don't you think?"

"Yes." He sat up, swiftly finished removing his shirt and shimmied out of his pyjama bottoms as well, and then lay back down facing her, bestowing a quick kiss on her lips before asking "Now, is that satisfactory?"

"Yes, definitely satisfactory," she replied, kissing his lips ardently as she slid her hand down the length of his torso and hips, relishing the feel of him and pulling him closer. "And very useful," she added as she trailed her finger tips lightly across his chest up over his shoulders and back down to his bottom, enjoying the shivers her touch induced.

"Useful?"

"Yes, very useful," she replied as she grabbed his bottom, squeezing it firmly.

"Useful," He chuckled to himself, as he rolled over and pulled her with him, kissing her playfully, and sweeping her hair off to the side.

She felt, rather than heard the chuckle and she could sense a grin on his lips as she returned his kiss. She leaned back, tilting her head, "What's so funny?"

He lay back, "That word, useful. It reminded me of something I said to you in my dream."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me about it?" It had been at least a year since he shared something new from his dream, and she was always curious to learn what his imagination had conceived back before they had actually met .

"Yes." He paused a moment while he let his hands trail lightly over her back, sending shivers over her skin, just as she had done to him. "It was the morning after I first proposed to you and you wanted me to ask you again to marry me. I did, but when you didn't reply right away, I asked you if you found it useful. You said yes, you said it was useful."

"Ah. Were we similarly attired?

"What do you mean?"

"I mean were we in bed together? Like we are now?"

"No. I had already risen and dressed for the day."

"Too bad.." She tilted her head and started to giggle, "Useful. I'll have to remember that. Now, where were we?"

He rolled them both back to their sides, "I believe you had your hand right here," he said as he took her hand and placed it on his hip, "and I was … umm" He returned his attentions to the hollow at the front of her neck, reaching down to her bottom as well, pulling her closer.

"Mmmm," she groaned with pleasure. "Useful … ," she gasped as passion took her breath, and she pulled his leg in between hers, "Oh, Martin … yes"


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

Ruth helped Robert on with his coat, woolen cap and mittens and gave him a kiss good-bye, "Have fun at the holiday party with James and your mum."

"I will Graunty. Thank you." He looked up at her and smiled, a smile that always broke her reserve, and she gave him another quick kiss.

Louisa took a final look at both the boys, confirming that each was bundled up against the cold and then turned to Martin, who was holding baby Joanie in the crook of his arm, as was his habit. Leaning down, Louisa nuzzled the baby's neck and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek, cooing, "Now be a good girl for your Daddy and Great Aunt Ruth whilst we are gone."

She turned to Ruth and gave her a hug good bye, then reached up to give Martin a kiss, hugging him tightly, "I hate not being able to take her to the party. The villagers will be so disappointed. Everyone is expecting to see her. Are you two certain that you don't want to come?"

Martin cleared his throat, sending Ruth a quick look that told her they were lucky to have an excuse to demure before replying, "Noooo. Best not expose Joanie to all the pathogens that are likely to be swarming around the village holiday party." He reached over to ruffle the heads of his two sons and then added, "Make sure James and Robert wash their hands thoroughly several times. We don't want them bringing home a flu bug or something worse."

Looking down at her young sons, she nodded her head and assured Martin, "We will, won't we boys?"

"Yes, mummy. We know it's important to wash our hands." James replied, as Robert nodded his head and held out his hands.

Louisa hesitated as she reached for their contribution to the evening's pot-luck, a chicken casserole using one of Joan's recipes. "We will miss you, but I know you two will probably be happy to stay in and enjoy a quiet evening."

Ruth nodded, "I'm certain that Martin and I will have a very pleasant evening. I'm about to set up the chess board."

Martin nodded and grunted his agreement, and Ruth spread her arms. This good-bye was taking much too long. They were only headed to the village holiday party, not a voyage overseas. "Have a good time, and drive carefully." With that she shooed them out the door.

"We will and we won't be late." Louisa confirmed as she tripped out the door, both boys in tow.

Finally, Louisa and the boys were on their way and the house settled into a haven of tranquillity. Martin set up the baby rocker on the kitchen table, secured Joanie in the seat, and turned on the attached music player while Ruth pulled out the chess board and set it up.

"I thought we could have a simple omelette for supper," he said as he pulled the eggs from the cupboard and opened the refrigerator to get some leftover ham from the previous day's meal. He gathered a few vegetables, onions, peppers, and mushrooms, and began to chop them to include in the omelette. "Should I sauté some of the potatoes from yesterday as well?"

"Sounds quite the feast. Can I help?"

"Perhaps you could slice the potatoes and cook them up whilst I prepare the omelettes."

In less than a quarter hour, Martin had their meal on the table and they sat down to enjoy the repast in near silence, occasionally turning their attention to the baby and giving her chair the random bounce. Most of the tunes in the rocker's repertoire were simple variations on classical themes, and Martin drummed his fingers to the beat of Mozart or Beethoven as the familiar tunes played on.

Ruth put her fork down for a moment to comment, "I can't say I am impressed by the orchestration inherent to this rocker's playing mechanism, but I _am_ impressed by the selections. They should encourage both her musical and vocal development, I should think."

"Yes, most of these tunes have a complex musical structure which some experts believe encourages spatial thinking. I doubt its effect on infants is substantial; however, the music is calming and that effect has been corroborated."

Ruth put her fork down and leaned back in her chair, dabbing her mouth with her serviette, "Yes, it is … calming, that is. I wonder if our listening to it will help us ramp up our chess skills."

"Hmmm …. That's a possibility" Martin rose and started to clear the dishes and do the washing up.

"Dinner was delicious Martin. You do have a way with a skillet." Ruth leaned over to coo at the baby and she noticed that familiar odour. "Why don't you let me do the rest of the washing up and you can clean up this baby." She walked over to the sink and tilted her head in Joanie's direction, twitching her nose.

"Right."

xxXxx

Martin returned to the kitchen with a fresh baby and put the kettle on, reaching into the dresser for two cups. "I assume you would enjoy a cup of tea?"

"Actually, Martin, I think I will have a glass of that whiskey Chris gave you for Christmas. Should be just the ticket to warm me up on this cold winter's night." Ruth was just finishing the washing up and she dried her hands before placing the teatowel on its hook at the end of the counter.

Martin shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head to the side, as he gently advised his aunt, "An extra pair of socks and a woollen cardigan might be more effective. Honestly, I don't know why Chris is always giving me whiskey. Alcohol can have a very deleterious effect on the liver. He should know that."

"I'm sure he does, and enjoys it anyway. Joan always kept a bottle handy and if it weren't for Chris, there might never be a drop to be found in this house again. Why don't I pour you a glass as well?" She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a glass

"Humph, don't be ridiculous. Unless you are developing dementia, of which I've seen no signs so far, I need to keep my wits about me if I want to win this match."

"Truer words were never spoken," Ruth replied with a lopsided grin.

Martin placed his tea on the table and went to lift Joanie out of her rocker. "When Chris and I were in med school, I always kept a few bottles of good single malt in my flat which he would enjoy from time to time. He still thinks of me as a whiskey drinker even though I rarely touch the stuff any more."

"Your loss my boy. I must thank him the next time I see him." Ruth added a few drops of water to her glass and raised it in a salute.

The two Ellingham's sat down to do battle, each with their beverage of choice. Ruth's Uncle Dick had bought the teak board and ivory chessmen in the Far East between the wars when he was a young Naval officer. It came with the house when he deeded the farm and its contents to Joan and Christopher all those years ago. It might be valuable or it might not; they had no idea, but it was a beautiful set and many in the family had honed their skills using it. Martin had learned whilst playing with Phil when he visited as a child, and it brought back many fond memories of those times. When he and Joan were cleaning out the storage room prior to the renovations, they had discovered it in the bowels of an ancient wardrobe, and now he and Ruth challenged each other whenever they were both at the farm.

A chess clock was buried in that ancient wardrobe along with the set, and Martin took it back to London with him to repair. It now kept perfect time, not that Martin and Ruth used it; they each preferred to contemplate every move without the added pressure of timed play. As it was, both were experienced players and were able to assess the course of the game within a reasonable time frame. Martin nodded to Ruth to make the first move, "Age before Beauty", he intoned.

"Just for that you deserve to take a trouncing." She made her first move.

Martin, still holding the baby, tickled her tummy and made his opening move as well. Ruth followed as did Martin. After the next move, Ruth observed, "Have you watched the baby? She seems to be very interested in our game. She looks at me when I make a move and then she looks up at you."

'No, I haven't. I doubt that the muscles in her neck are adequately developed to move her head back and forth." Martin wasn't going to be distracted.

'I didn't say she was moving her head, just that her eyes follow our moves."

"Hmmm …. Possibly."

"No possibly about it. I think she is just as curious, and as intelligent as your two boys. You'll see."

Martin made his next move and then looked down to observe his youngest. He pushed his chair back from the table and sat her on his knees holding her back and head so that she was facing him, "Is your Great Aunt Ruth correct? Are you interested in chess?"

She responded in typical baby fashion, waving her arms in the air and kicking her feet and moving her lips as if she were trying to respond. He smiled at her and gave her tummy a little rub. Ruth moved her hand over the board in anticipation of a move and Martin looked up. "Let's see what Graunty Ruth is up to."

"Graunty Ruth is thinking that you are spoiling my godchild. She should be back in her rocker or in her cot."

"Nonsense, she is too young to be spoilt, and the stimulation she receives from watching and listening to us encourages neural development. We treated James and Robert the same way, and I believe that neither of them is spoilt."

He gazed down lovelingly at his daughter, and then suddenly pulled his head up to look at Ruth, "They're not spoilt, are they?"

"No Martin, they are lovely children." She paused, and then added, 'Of course we both love them so we might be a bit biased."

"Mmm."

Ruth made her next move and continued the conversation, "Speaking of your children, I don't think I have ever thanked you for letting me be a part of your family."

Martin had been contemplating his next move, but snapped his head up at Ruth's statement. "But you _are_ family. You are my Aunt. Why would we not consider you part of our family."

"That's not what I mean. What I am trying to say, and it is difficult to put into words without being overly sentimental, is that I don't ever feel like a guest in your home. I feel like I belong; and, dare I say it, it makes me happy."

Martin stared at her, eyes wide open, unsure how to respond. "Uh … yes … right … good." He shifted Joanie back into the crook of his left arm and returned his attention to the chess board, "I think your Great Aunt Ruth is trying to distract me."

Ruth kept silent until he made his next move. She had promised Louisa that she would talk to Martin about his parents, but he had seemed so content the first few days down on the farm before the Christmas festivities had commenced that she didn't want to spoil his holiday by bringing up such an unpleasant topic. She had decided to wait until after Joanie's Christening, but an appropriate occasion hadn't presented itself yesterday. Now seemed the most opportune time to broach the subject whilst the rest of the family was out of the house.

"Ooo … good move," she exclaimed as she watched him take out one of her men and open her to attack. "Speaking of family, how is your Dad doing these days?"

Martin took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "Do we have to talk about that now?"

"No, not if you don't want to. I was just wondering. He is my brother after all, much as I hate to admit it."

"Yes," he sighed again. "I spoke with Brendall, his consultant, this morning and from what he tells me, his condition continues to deteriorate. The procedure that he performed late last month was successful in removing several blockages, but his overall condition was poor to begin with and his cognitive ability is declining rapidly. His prognosis is poor."

"Oh dear." He might be a lying cheating bastard, a thug her sister once called him, but he was her brother and she was saddened that he should end his days in senility. "How is your mother taking it all?"

Martin stiffened, "Should we just close up the board and consider this game a draw?"

She stared at him for a long minute, "I assume that she is not coping … but no. I don't want to stop playing even though you may have me at a disadvantage for the moment. We can continue this conversation at a later time."

"I'd prefer that."

"Very well … but let me know if there is anything I can do to help. We are family after all and we are in this together."

She returned her focus to the game, dismayed that she wasn't able to draw him out. Perhaps that is why she found her king in check after the next four moves.

Game over, it was time to feed Joanie, change her and put her in her cot. Louisa was likely to be back within the hour and Ruth felt her opportunity slipping by. When Martin returned to the lounge to browse his BMJ, she broached the topic of his parents once more. "So … tell me how your mother is handling your father's illness. She always seemed so dependent on him."

Martin looked up at his Aunt, staring at her in dismay and put down his journal, huffing. "Very well. We can discuss this whole miserable situation if you insist. My mother is not handling it well."

"No, I suppose not."

"Perhaps I should rephrase that. You would not expect a wife to handle her husband's serious illness well. In my work, I have witnessed many wives in her situation who become distraught at the thought of losing their husband, but in her case, she doesn't exhibit any signs of sorrow or grief at his decline, none that I recognise at any rate."

"I'm not surprised."

"She plays the role of the devoted wife around the staff, but in private with me, she speaks of his illness as an inconvenience. It has disrupted her comfortable life and she acts resentful, especially now during the holidays when they should be back in Portugal hosting their usual holiday party."

"She has always been self-centered … both of them really. I know they are your parents, but you know as well as I that neither of them thinks of anyone other than himself."

"No." He looked down at his hands twisting in his lap. "You are right when you say she has always been dependent on Dad. He has managed all of their affairs, and now that he is unable to manage things, she expects me to do it. She refuses to accept that she must take responsibility for their affairs now, make decisions about his care, pay their bills, all that sort of thing."

Unable to hide the distress he was feeling, he continued, a scowl furrowing his brow, "Once he's gone, it will get worse. I've spoken to Dad's solicitor and his financial advisors. He has a substantial pension, but after his death, only a very small portion will continue to her. She will have very little income or capital available once he dies. She expects me to help her out financially."

Ruth sat up quickly and leaned in towards him, "No, no, no. You can't do that."

"I could possibly, but it would mean cutting back on our savings for the children's education and perhaps other things as well."

"No Martin. Absolutely not." Ruth was firm. "You have neither the time nor the financial resources to provide your mother with the lifestyle 'to which she has become accustomed' as they say. Let me think on it. I am sure I can help her sort it out."

Martin shook his head, "I _have_ thought about it. Firstly, she will have to sell her villa and buy a small flat. I think with the proceeds from the villa plus the small annuity she will receive from dad's pension and what little remains of the capital he has invested, she could live a simple, but comfortable life."

After speaking with Louisa, Ruth had been formulating a strategy for approaching Margaret, a plan of attack as it were, but it was still gestating. The specifics hadn't yet fallen into place, but she planned to be direct, explain that Martin was much too busy to take care of her along with his hospital responsibilities and his family, and that certainly he had no extra funds to shore up her standard of living. She would offer to help Margaret sell her villa and find more affordable housing and set up a scheme to pay her bills if she really needed that kind of help. Ruth sincerely believed she didn't.

'Very well. Let me take care of it."

"I can't impose on you Ruth. It's asking too much."

"No, it isn't. Didn't I just say we are family? And family helps out one another in times of crises, and this is a time of crisis if ever I saw one."

Martin silently nodded his head and Ruth continued. "Take me to visit your dad when we return to London. We might see Margaret there and I can engage with her then. If not, it will give me an excuse to ask her to lunch where we can devise a plan to do just what you said, sell her villa, buy a small flat and set up a budget. It can be done, and she is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She has never had to and she doesn't want to, but it's time for her to grow up. After all she's almost 80."

'Yes."

They both returned to their reading, but after a few minutes, Martin spoke up, "I didn't tell you, but my mother called me whilst we were at the Parsons' party on Boxing Day. Wanted me to return to London. Evidently Dad has been demanding that I come to see him to release him from the care home. She says she can't reason with him and she doesn't know what to do. I told her I'd have his consultant refer her to a social worker or therapist so she would have a professional to talk with and help her through this difficult time, but that I couldn't possibly leave Louisa alone with the three children."

"What did she say to that?"

"I don't know. I hung up on her and left a message for his consultant to do just that."

"Good for you." Ruth gave him a crooked smile, then got up and walked over to his chair, "Stand up."

"What for?"

"I want to give you a hug."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous. It took great courage for you to stand up to your mother. I'm proud of you and I want to give you a hug."

Martin continued to sit there giving her a sceptical look.

"Stand up!" Her tone had become much more demanding.

Reluctantly he stood and she reached around him and gave him a hug. He returned the hug, patting her gently on the back. 'You're very emotional this evening."

"Cut an old woman some slack Martin. I'm entitled to be emotional at Christmas." She released him and wiped a tear from her eye, "Find me a tissue, will you."


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

Louisa picked up the breakfast dishes and carried them to the sink. It was Friday morning and they were back in London, their holiday in Cornwall over. After the village holiday party Saturday night, life turned tranquil. Martin let her have a lie-in Sunday morning whilst he prepared one of his big healthy breakfasts, only waking her when it was time to feed Joanie. Ruth left on the Sunday afternoon train for London so she could attend a New Year's Day party with some old friends; and Emily, the Ellingham's nanny arrived on a train from London a few minutes later to help out with the children and to accompany Louisa back on the train Thursday.

Having their trusted nanny in the house also enabled Martin and Louisa to attend Alicia and Stefan's New Year's Eve party, always a big event in Louisa's close circle of Portwenn friends, although Martin insisted that they leave by half ten. With three children who would undoubtedly be up at their usual early morning hour, it was unwise to stay and ring in the New Year. All in all, Louisa had to admit that he was right. It was nearly midnight by the time they had settled into bed; and as they were both tired, she decided to give him a night off from the conjugal activities that they had enjoyed nearly every night of their holiday. She thought she heard a sigh of disappointment slip from his lips when she gave him a gentle kiss good-night followed by a "Happy New Year"; but perhaps not, for after he returned the kiss, he was asleep within thirty seconds, lying flat on his back with his hands folded across his chest and breathing in a regular rhythm.

They had passed on a New Year's brunch with the Parson's, staying at home, cooking a delicious Italian themed early dinner for just the six of them. Cooking was one of the activities that they both enjoyed and they had spent much of Sunday evening after Ruth had left planning the meal and shopping the next day. Wednesday was their last full day and it was glorious, cool but not cold and brightly sunny. They bundled up the children and took a long walk along the cliffs, breaking for a short snack of cheese, apple, and crackers, plus a thermos of warm cider. It was a lovely family day. By Thursday afternoon, Martin had packed Louisa, Joanie and Emily onto the train for the homeward journey and drove the boys back early in the evening.

Now it was Friday morning, time to return to their busy London life. Both James and Robert were to be back at school on Monday. Based on Joanie's original due date, Louisa had arranged to take the next school term off. She had been tempted to offer her services now that Joanie had fallen into a routine, but she had decided to try being a stay-at-home mom for a few months. It would give her the opportunity to volunteer at each of the boys' schools, where she would be able to know their teachers and the rest of the staff better.

Martin was back in his suit, the Shetland cardigan that she had given him the winter after they were married and which he often wore on winter days at the farm consigned to the back of the closet until the next trip to Cornwall. It was a beautiful sweater and she loved the way he looked when wearing it, but she loved him in his suits as well. She took a moment to engage in a little day dreaming, remembering the first time they had dinner together, when she saw him waiting for her at the hospital entrance. She never tired of reliving that evening; he was so handsome, she couldn't believe she was having dinner with such a distinguished man. She would never forget that moment, and despite all these years of marriage, there were still times when her heart skipped a beat when she caught a glimpse of him in one of his suits. This morning was one of those times … when he came down for breakfast, walking with his usual perfect posture to the front door to pick up the newspaper. She stood in the doorway to the kitchen with a dreamy look on her face as she gazed at him walking towards her. He stopped for a moment next to her in the doorway and tilted his head quizzically, "Are you alright this morning?"

His question roused her from her reverie and she smiled up at him, "Yes." She stroked the front of his suit and adjusted his tie, "I was just thinking how handsome you look this morning."

He raised his eyebrow as he was wont to do and harrumphed, "Right," but she could see the edges of his mouth twitching as he tried to suppress a smile. He always feigned amused disbelief that she found him so handsome, but she knew he enjoyed her attention, found it reassuring, that she loved him so wholeheartedly. He once said that "love is certainly blind" when she called him her sexy man, and perhaps he truly meant it, but she also knew he was secretly pleased that she found him so attractive.

She stole a quick kiss before he turned to place the paper on the table. He had a light schedule today since, technically, he was still on holiday, not due back in hospital until Monday. Simon had insisted on his taking a full two weeks. Even on holiday, however, he kept up with the department workload, and he had scheduled a staff meeting at 10 am to ease back in. He planned to meet Ruth at 11:30 at his Dad's care home to assess his condition and to accompany her on her first visit with her brother. If she were going to help him with his parents, arranging their affairs and making decisions regarding Christopher's care, she needed to know what she was dealing with.

Ruth had promised on their trip down to Cornwall that she would step in so that Martin did not have to manage his parents alone. Before she returned to London that Sunday afternoon following the village holiday party, Ruth had taken Louisa aside and told her of the conversation she and Martin had had the night before. No matter how she tried to assure Martin of her love, Louisa knew her support wasn't enough to assuage his anxiety. Somehow, she just knew that having Ruth at his side would give Martin assurance that he wasn't alone, would provide him with the strength to face his parents as the weeks, and months, possibly years went on. What would they do without Ruth? They had managed to soldier on after Joan's death; she didn't want to think about losing Ruth as well. Fortunately, she was strong and healthy despite her 78 years. Louisa refused to think about that this morning. There were more important issues to address, the most important one being Martin's parents.

After they had finished their morning meal, Martin took the boys upstairs to dress for the day. He didn't have to be at hospital for another hour. He hoped to be home for a late lunch after his meeting with his father and Ruth which would give them time to take the children to the science museum, a favourite outing for the entire family.

By the time he was ready to leave for hospital, the boys had busied themselves playing with their toys in the lounge and Joanie was cooing at the moon and stars rotating around in the mobile hung over her playmat on the floor nearby. He leaned over Joanie to brush her cheek before he straightened up and bid the boys good-bye. James looked up for a moment to say good-bye whilst Robert ran over to the door to give him a hug around his neck. Louisa had already wished him a good morning, reminding him not to forget that they all loved him, and she gave him a sweet kiss before he jogged down the steps of their home and headed off for a brisk walk to hospital.


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

Ruth had agreed to meet Martin at his Dad's care home on Friday at 11:30 am. She arrived a few minutes before the appointed time and sat down on one of the sofas in the lounge to prepare herself for what was likely to be a confrontation. She hadn't visited with Christopher since his arrival in November, and if she were to assist Margaret with their affairs, she needed to get a sense of his condition, to assess whether he would be returning to Portugal within the next few months or if he would live out his days in London.

Punctuality was a trait that both she and Martin valued, and sure enough he walked into the lounge at exactly 11:30. The room was empty save for the two of them, giving them some privacy to talk. He looked well rested and confident, but then he always appeared confident. She greeted him affably, "How was your trip back?"

He nodded in her direction and looked around the room before sitting down in a chair across from her, "Good, uneventful."

"And how are you doing?" She knew that interactions with his parents were always accompanied by anxiety and that he had to steel himself emotionally in order to manage. He would likely tell her he was "fine", but his body language would reveal to her his real emotional state.

Martin responded as she expected and then commenced with the subject uppermost in both their minds, "I'm fine. I've talked with both Dad's surgical consultant and his neurologist. He is currently stable, but is resistant to rehabilitation. He is under the impression that he is able to perform tasks that he is currently not able to do, such as getting up and walking. As you know this is a common cognitive challenge after stroke, and it hinders his cooperation to rehabilitation."

His bearing was rigid as he leaned forward and summarised his father's condition, and he had adopted his professional demeanour to shield his vulnerability to his parents' thoughtless attacks. Why could these people never see what an accomplished man their son was; it both puzzled and angered her. They were lucky to have him. She wouldn't need to offer him any words of support, not at the moment at any rate.

She rose and hoisted her bag over her shoulder. "Yes. I understand. Shall we head on in and see how he's doing? No point in putting off the inevitable."

"No"

Together they walked into Christopher's room, where he was sitting in his arm chair watching a golf match.

"Dad?" Martin addressed him. "Good morning."

Christopher waved his arm, signalling that he should stop talking. "Important putt coming up. We need to keep quiet while he concentrates."

Ruth looked at Martin warily. Christopher's comment took her by surprise. It was obvious that he was delusional, thinking they were in the gallery on the fairway watching the match in real time. Had he really suffered this much brain damage?

The two of them waited while the player took his putt, then Martin picked up the remote and turned off the television.

"What are you doing?" Christopher bellowed.

"Dad, we've come to see how you're doing."

Christopher quickly shifted his attention to the present, "And it's about time you showed up here. I keep telling your mother to contact you. I need to get out of this place. These people have no idea what they are doing or who they are dealing with. I'm an important surgeon and they treat me like a child."

Martin ignored his father's outburst, and summarised the reality of the situation, "I've talked with your consultants and it is felt that you have not achieved enough progress to enable you to live on your own."

"Nonsense. I'm perfectly fine, and your mother can help if need be."

"No. Mum cannot help. She isn't physically strong enough."

Martin had brought his medical bag with him. As a surgeon, he was not in the habit of carrying any medical supplies with him when he wasn't on rounds, but this morning he packed up a small bag with the equipment that he felt would be useful in examining his Dad. He pulled out his stethoscope. "I'd like to examine you. Let's see if we can get you up on the bed."

He stood over his father, "Can you stand up?"

"Of course I can."

"Well then. Hop to it."

Christopher struggled to pull himself out of the chair, but was unsuccessful.

Martin stepped out into the hall and flagged down an aide to help and the two of them were able to lift him to his feet. "Let's see you walk to the bed."

With the support of both Martin and the aide, Christopher was able to shuffle to the side of the bed, where Martin and the aide helped him to lie down.

As he lay down, he noticed Ruth standing in a far corner of the room. He pulled himself up on his elbows and bellowed at her, "What are you doing here? Come to gloat at my situation?"

Ruth approached the bed and raised her eyebrows as she responded, "It's nice to see you as well Christopher. I spent the holidays with Martin and his family and he told me about your health issues. I thought I might be able to help out."

He started to shake his head, muttering, "Terrible business, Martin married to that fisherman's daughter who keeps spawning one whinging, snivelling brat after another."

Ruth shot right back, refusing to let Christopher disparage her great niece and nephews, whom she had grown to love, "Martin's children are lovely, polite and affectionate. It is your loss that you will never have the opportunity to enjoy their companionship."

Martin had pushed his father back down full on the bed and started to do his examination, trying to listen to his father's heart and then listening to his carotid and vertebral arteries, but he quickly stood up and barked, "Would you two please stop talking. I am trying to listen to your heart."

Suitably chastised, both Ruth and Christopher held their tongues whilst Martin finished his examination. After watching his father's difficulty in rising from the chair and in walking, he particularly wanted to assess his strength, and satisfied that his father still retained some strength in his legs and that he would be able to stand and move his legs if he were willing to work, he stepped back and gave his father an ultimatum, "Dad, it is unlikely you will be released from the care home unless you are able to ambulate on your own."

"I am able to walk on my own. I've just been sitting too long this morning and couldn't warm up. Haven't you spoken with my consultants? They will tell you I am fine."

"I have spoken with them and they tell me that your condition is deteriorating, that you are uncooperative and unwilling to work with either your physical or occupational therapists."

"This is ridiculous. I insist you have me discharged so that your mother and I can return to our home in Portugal."

"If you could afford round the clock nursing care at home, you could go home tomorrow. But I have reviewed your finances, and you no longer have the means necessary to afford such care."

"Nonsense. You forget that we are living in Portugal. Expenses are much lower there. I am sure we can find an affordable live-in health aide if that is actually necessary."

"Perhaps. Mother should look into that. A better alternative would be for you to work with the therapist here to regain the strength in your legs so that you could ambulate with a walking frame. You might need an aide to help with personal hygiene and dressing, but that would be a much lower expense than a full-time nurse."

Ruth felt the need to interrupt. "Even if the cost is manageable, it will take some time to make the arrangements. You would be well served by making the most of your time here until Margaret can find appropriate help in Portugal. Work with the therapist, get stronger. It might not take that long if you put your mind to it. And it's better than having to go home in a wheelchair."

"Humph." Christopher grunted with a scowl set firmly in his face. Ruth could tell he wasn't going to admit she had a point. He never could admit that either she or Joan might be right.


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42**

Margaret sighed as the cab pulled up to the entrance to Christopher's care home and she reached over the cabbie's shoulder to pass him the fare plus a small tip as she had been doing for the past month. Had it really been a month since Christopher had entered this facility, she wondered to herself. And nearly two months since they had arrived in London to consult with Martin. She shuddered as she thought of how ill their only child had treated both her and his father. She understood that it was unethical for him to provide his father's medical care, but couldn't he have been more engaged, sat with them as the consultants examined Christopher and explained what was happening. She had so many questions; if only he could have given them an hour, maybe two hours each day to assure them that Christopher's treatment plan was going to be effective. Was that too much to ask? She thought not. It would have been so comforting to both Christopher and herself if he could have sat with his father and consoled him when he lashed out, but no. He left them to fend for themselves and ran off to Cornwall for the holidays. They had never asked much of him before. Surely, he could have cancelled his trip and stayed nearby when they really needed him.

As she walked down the hall, she heard a deep sonorous male voice coming from Christopher's room … Martin. He had finally returned from the west country. She hurried down the few remaining steps to his door and opened it. "Martin, it's about time you arrived. We have been needing to talk with you."

Martin scowled and nodded his head in her direction, "Mum".

Carly and Geoffrey had given her some packages for Christopher just before they returned to Portugal for the New Year's Eve party. She kept forgetting to bring them until today, and as she set them down on the dresser near the door, she noticed Ruth standing near the window. Totally surprised to see her sister-in-law, she blurted out, "What are _you_ doing here?"

Ruth gave her the same wry look she had given her brother when he had asked that question, "Your husband asked me that very same question less than twenty minutes ago. Always nice to feel welcome when visiting the sick."

Margaret regained her composure and pulled her shoulders back and up to achieve her full height to face Ruth, "Yes, of course."

Nodding in Martin's direction she addressed her son once again, "Martin?"

An awkward silence hovered over the room as they each waited for the first to speak. Eventually, Christopher blurted out, "Martin says I can go home if we hire a live-in aide."

Margaret turned to Martin, "Is that true, Martin?"

"It's a possibility, although I'm not sure you have the funds. It would be better if Dad would work with the therapist here and regain the use of his legs."

Martin turned toward his father and added, "As Ruth just said, I would think you would prefer to walk on your own two feet rather than spend the rest of your days in a wheel chair."

Christopher jerked his head to the side as if the thought that he could be bound to a wheel chair had never crossed his mind. He rolled onto his side and slipped his feet over the edge of the bed, planning to show them all that he was perfectly capable of walking on his own, and he did manage to stand briefly before his legs buckled and he fell onto the floor, breaking his fall by grabbing onto the bed before landing. Martin rushed over to his side, propping him into a sitting position against the bed. "Ruth, can you find an aide to help me lift him back into his chair or the bed?"

"Dad, are you in any pain? I need to check you over and assess for any broken bones."

"Stop fussing Martin," Christopher growled in irritation. "Nothing is broken. I'm fine. I just slipped on the rug. Don't they know better than to put a throw rug in these rooms? Anyone could trip and fall."

Margaret looked down and said, "There isn't a rug on the floor, you old fool. We all know that you can't walk … you just refuse to admit it."

Christopher glared at her and was about to return her insult when Ruth and the aide entered the room. Martin and the aide moved him to the bed, and with the aide standing by his side, Martin checked him over. "You have some significant bruising, but it doesn't appear that you have broken any bones. Still the staff will need to keep a close eye on you in case something shows up."

He stepped back and addressed his father sternly, "You do know that you could have broken your hip with that bit of tomfoolery. Many more weeks in hospital and not much chance of regaining mobility after that. In fact, at your age, a hip fracture can lead to serious complications, even death. You were lucky this time; you may not be so fortunate next time."

"Balderdash."

"Your decision, your funeral."

Martin turned away from his father and spoke to his mother, "I have advised Dad that he should work with the therapists to strengthen his legs so he can walk, but it appears that his strokes have impaired his ability to acknowledge his limitations and unless he starts to cooperate, he will be consigned to a wheel chair and his prognosis is not good. Were you able to consult with one of the social workers? You are going to have to make some decisions regarding his care in the near future."

"Yes, I spoke with the social workers. They are really no help at all. They suggested that I attend a therapy group and they gave me some names of home health providers, which is no help whatsoever if we return to Portugal. Can't you assist me to find the right people to help? I can't do all this on my own, Martin. I really have no idea where to start."

At this point Ruth stepped in. "Margaret, Martin and I spoke extensively about this situation whilst we were in Cornwall. I believe I understand the difficulties you are facing and I am prepared to help."

"You were with Martin and his family in Cornwall? Whatever for?"

"We were celebrating the holidays, but that is irrelevant. Martin does not have the time to manage Christopher's care. As head of his department, his work is demanding, and he has a young family at home. He cannot ignore their needs."

Margaret bristled at Ruth comments. " _We_ are his family also, and _we_ have needs that he can't ignore."

Ruth was prepared for this line of attack, "Which is why he has accepted my offer of help. I am family as well, and I can devote the time necessary to make sure Christopher has the best of care. Isn't that what you want?" Ruth gave Margaret her best insincere smile.

Margaret hesitated. She and Ruth had never gotten along and it was unlikely they would work together smoothly now. If she were honest with herself, she was certain that Martin would be easier to manipulate, to coerce into doing whatever she asked. He had always been eager to please, always compliant, doing whatever she asked to gain her favour, or he had been as a child; she assumed he would be equally compliant now despite his incivility as of late. Ruth on the other hand was impervious to her stratagems.

Before she could speak, Martin added, "Yes. I will continue to monitor his medical status, but you can look to Ruth for help with your financial affairs and in making a decision as to whether to take Dad back to Portugal and in making the arrangements if necessary, a move I strongly advise against. You could also encourage him to work with his therapists. Ruth can certainly assess his need for some cognitive therapy."

Ruth added, 'Why don't we meet for lunch tomorrow and talk about it?"

Margaret had no intention of being railroaded into working with Ruth, "I always come to help Christopher with his midday meal. I can't possibly do lunch."

"Well then. Let's meet for an early supper. Half five tomorrow? Give me your mobile number and I will text the directions to my favourite café."

It appeared that she had no choice but to meet with Ruth. "Very well." She agreed and gave Ruth her number.

If Ruth were as anxious to help Martin as she implied, she might be inclined to see things as Margaret did. And if she played her cards right, she might be able to coerce Ruth into relieving her of the onerous responsibilities involved with caring for a sick spouse. After all, Christopher was her brother; surely, she retained some affection for him still. It could work to her advantage if she managed her interactions with Ruth prudently.

"Five thirty tomorrow. I will meet you then." Turning to Christopher, she said, "Shall we eat in the dining room? It might be pleasant to talk to some of the other patients today. I can see you have had a difficult morning."


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43**

Margaret felt that the supper with Ruth had gone better than she could have hoped. It seemed that Ruth actually wanted to help make arrangements for Christopher's care and to aide her in managing their affairs. True Ruth had a superior attitude, implying that Margaret was something of a child, unable to care for herself, but she had borne the humiliation with her usual sangfroid, refusing to let Ruth disturb her equanimity. Ruth had been gracious and agreeable to Margaret's every thought until she had mentioned her expectation that Martin should help defray the costs of Christopher's nursing care. At that Ruth exploded, "No, absolutely not. He doesn't have the financial means to cover that expense."

Margaret replied, "I find that hard to believe. He is head of a department. Heads are compensated quite well."

"Yes, they are; but remember, he is with the NHS. Vascular surgeons are at the top of the pay scale, but even so, NHS pay rates are not excessive."

Margaret was not going to let Ruth intimidate her, "I assume he treats a few private patients on the side as well. I'm certain he has surplus funds he can use to help."

"You are also forgetting he has a young family to support and three children to educate. That will consume all his 'surplus funds'."

Margaret shook her head and replied in a haughty tone, "Well, he should have thought about the expense before he had three children."

Ruth lifted her head, her eyes narrowed to slits and focused on the wall over Margaret's shoulder, and an uneasy silence fell over their table, broken only by the hum of the conversations at the nearby tables. She drummed her fingers on the table top and shifted her eyes to Margaret, examining her with an icy stare.

" _Touch_ _é_ _."_ Margaret thought as she leaned back in her chair and, glaring right back at Ruth, smirked after taking a sip of her wine. It was obvious to Margaret that Ruth was stymied. Martin _should_ have thought about the expense of so many children; there was no defence Ruth could supply to excuse his poor planning.

Ruth finally spoke, slowly and distinctly, disdain colouring her voice, "Martin and Louisa wanted all three of their children, despite the expense of raising them. Those children are a blessing that I never expected Martin to have."

Margaret chuckled, waving her hand in the air as if to dispel Ruth's assertion, "A blessing? Are children ever a blessing?" She couldn't help wondering what Ruth was thinking, " _Children a blessing? More like a curse. Ruth must be delusional_."

"Yes, not that I would expect you to understand. You never wanted nor cared for your own child."

There may have been some truth in Ruth's assertion, Margaret thought, but it wasn't Ruth's place to bring it up. "How dare you! Of course we wanted him. Are you accusing me of neglecting my own child?" Margaret was furious and she raised her head proudly, "I don't know how you can say that." She leaned in across the table and continued in an accusatory tone, "We provided him the best of care, a comfortable home, good food, an excellent education."

"Yes, all his material needs were met. But did you love him, show him affection?"

"I don't know what you mean. Of course we did, but surely you remember what a difficult child he was, always underfoot."

Ruth shook her head in dismay, "No. I remember a sensitive, bright and curious child of four. And I remember a six-year old who had all but shut down due to the remoteness of his father and the coldness of his mother."

"Ridiculous. You don't know what you're talking about. You never had children."

"I do, and I regret that I never took the time to know him better. At least Joan did. She loved him." Ruth paused a moment to stare out the window. It had been threatening rain when they entered the café, and now the rain was pounding on the pavement.

Margaret looked down at her glass and realising it was empty, signalled to the waiter for another. This dinner had become just as dreary and stormy as the weather outside.

Ruth waited for their server to bring Margaret's wine and then she continued, "Joan may have been his salvation. He learned about love from her, and from Phil. It is due to their care for him that he is able to care so attentively for his family now. It is the reason he is able to love so completely now."

"Humph. I haven't seen any of that love; he treats Christopher and me as an inconvenience."

"And you don't know why that is?"

"We're his parents. He should have some regard for us."

"Yes, a father who beat him with a belt or a table tennis bat, and a mother who locked him in a cupboard under the stairs. I heard all about that from Joan. She was in tears describing the bruises on his legs when he came to visit when he was little. Then, you cut him off without looking back when he refused to join the Navy, not speaking to him for years. Did you really expect him to welcome you with open arms?"

Margaret had had enough and she stood to go, "I don't have to sit here and listen to this."

Ruth dropped her head as she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and held up her hand, "Wait. This bickering isn't getting us anywhere. Please sit back down. We need to forget about the past and concentrate on the present. We need to plan your move back to Portugal and find a caregiver for my brother."

Margaret hesitated, but then sat back down, still furious with the accusations Ruth had hurled at her. Ruth had no idea of the difficulties involved in raising a child, how they were always wanting attention, always whinging for one thing or another. Margaret wanted to continue defending herself, but Ruth was right on this point. They needed to plan the move. She needed help in making the arrangements, and it appeared that Martin refused to help. She would have to accept Ruth's offer of assistance and try to maintain civil relations with her.

Ruth had agreed that she should return to Portugal within the next few days. After all, she and Christopher had been in London for over two months with the villa empty all that time and no one checking on it. For all she knew, a pipe could have burst or vagrants moved in taking advantage of their luxurious villa's amenities. She even had nightmares about returning to an empty home, cleaned out by thieves, despite the fact that their community was gated and secure.

By the time they had finished dinner, they had agreed that Ruth would research home health services in Portugal and travel to Portugal herself to make the arrangements for Christopher's care. Margaret would return to Portugal and assess their home to arrange for the accommodation of a live-in nurse. In the meantime, Ruth urged Margaret to maintain contact with Christopher and encourage him to work with his therapists to regain his strength. Margaret was hesitant about her influence over him at this juncture in their lives, but Ruth pointed out that Margaret knew him better than anyone else. Surely, she knew what would motivate him, and as Margaret thought more about it, she realised that Ruth was right. She had felt her influence slipping during these months in London, so she might be a bit rusty, but she knew how to charm him, how to manipulate him to achieve her ends. She had mastered that art years ago. She would have a heart to heart with him before leaving for home. She really didn't want him to be totally incapacitated when they returned to Portugal. It would be so inconvenient.

Despite the ultimate productivity of their dinner, Margaret still felt belittled by Ruth's attitude, but she kept that to herself. It was a small price to pay to be free of the onus of making the arrangements herself. Given their long-standing history of animus, it all seemed a little too cosy and Margaret had decided to keep up her guard whilst taking advantage of the help. She was prepared to treat Ruth as any other hired help, someone to tolerate as long as they were useful.

xxxXxxx

Margaret stood outside the terminal where Carly had agreed to meet her and waved as she saw Carly's silver BMW pull up to the curb, where she popped the boot. She motioned to the porter to stash her bags into the car and gave him an appropriate tip. With a dismissive nod of her head, she opened the door to Carly's motor car and slipped in, leaning over to greet her with an air-kiss on both cheeks.

"It's so good to be back in Portugal. London has been just unbearable this winter."

Carly was all sympathy, "I know dear. You have had a time of it. I remember what it was like when my poor Reggie was ill, a never-ending round of hospitals and care homes. It was such a stressful time, and the worst of it was watching him slip away…just terrible."

'Yes." Margaret sniffed. She really wasn't up to another rehash of Reggie's medical history. "Christopher isn't doing well at all, and now I have to make some decisions about his care, whether to leave him in London, or bring him back here."

"Oh, you can't be serious about bringing him back here." Carly was aghast at the thought. "How would you ever be able to care for him? And medical care is so much better in London than here in the Algarve. I mean it's a lovely place to live and to play, but I wouldn't want to require serious medical care here, especially since we don't speak the language fluently."

"That's certainly something to consider … but Carly." Margaret paused as she considered how to go on. Whether Christopher stayed in London or returned to Portugal was not her primary concern. She herself planned to do whatever it took to return to their home; she wanted to be back among friends, not living as an outsider in London, tethered to a sick old man with a terrible temper. She would have to phrase it carefully to give the appearance that Christopher was her primary concern; after all it was her duty as his wife to ensure he received the best of care. "You know we both loved our life before we left London, but it's not the same. Without a close circle of friends, it's dreary and tedious, and Christopher hates it in his care home. He wants to come home, and so do I. I think the sunny days and time with his friends, even if he can't join them on the golf course, would be so much more therapeutic for him."

"You do have a point." Carly agreed as she made her way onto the main highway leading away from the airport towards their community down the coast.

'But it would be so hard on you …. Having to watch over him 24/7. How would you manage."

Margaret waved her hand as if it were no problem. "I'll have to hire help of course. I'm thinking a live-in health aide. We have maid's quarters in our villa. I think it would work out well."

"I don't know where I would even begin to find help like that."

'I'm certain there are services one can use. There are in England."

"Yes, but we aren't in England, are we?"

"No, but Christopher's sister Ruth is coming over in a few days to help me find someone. She's very resourceful."

"She sounds wonderful. You are so lucky to have her."

"Mmm … yes." Margaret nodded, then turned to gaze out the window, not wanting to show her true feelings.

They continued on their drive when Carly suddenly blurted, "Ruth? Wasn't she at school with us, way back in the day?"

"Yes."

"Seems like you two didn't exactly get along."

"Isn't that an understatement?" Margaret huffed. "Did you know she tried to scuttle our marriage?"

Carly looked puzzled, "I don't remember that."

"Yes, you do. It was that business with Mrs. Jessup. Everyone stole from her nasty little shop, but 'little goodie two-shoes' Ruth seemed to think it mattered."

"Well …." Carly drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, "Not _everyone_ stole from her shop."

Margaret shrugged her shoulders, "It was a long time ago."

'Yes. It was. So, you are friendly now? That's nice."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. She has offered to help and I have accepted. I'll be glad when it's over and I don't have to spend any more time with her and her 'holier than thou' attitude."

"That must be hard." Carly was truly sympathetic. She was lucky that her children were able to help when Reggie was so ill. They were concerned for her welfare as much as their father's.

"Yes … it is. And she is doing it more for Martin's sake than for Christopher or me."

"For Martin?"

"It was terrible, Carly. He was so distant. Yes, he referred us to one of the best specialists in England, at least he did that, and he claimed to have checked in every week or so, but he rarely spoke with us. I told you he went off to Cornwall for two weeks over the holiday, never even checking in to see how we were coping. I had to call him when Christopher started acting up on Boxing Day. Do you know what he did? He referred me to a social worker and then rang off …. Just hung up when I still had questions. Can you believe it?"

Carly listened politely with her mouth screwed up. Margaret could tell she was debating how to respond. Finally, she said, "Mags, I hate to say it, but what did you expect?'

"I thought some respect, some concern for his father and for me."

"But you have been estranged for years. Did you really think he would suddenly become the devoted son?"

"Devoted? No, Martin was never a devoted son, was he? But yes, I did expect he would exhibit _some_ concern for our welfare."

Margaret paused and looked out the window as they approached the exit for the road leading to their village. "I'm disappointed in you Carly. I thought you were my friend. I thought you would see my side of things."

"Darling, I do see your side of things and I totally understand how you would hope he would be attentive. But I can also see why he might be hesitant given that you have been estranged for so long. I'm just saying that it takes time to reconnect, to forget all the past hurts. I remember when you and Christopher first cut him out of your lives. He wouldn't join the Navy, wasn't that it? I remember your telling me how bitter Christopher was, and how he severed all contact with Martin because of it. He said some very nasty things to Martin, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did. He was furious and he couldn't control his anger and said some very hurtful things. Christopher can be quite unpleasant when he doesn't get his way. … and," she added in a sardonic tone, glancing out the window, "that's an understatement."

Margaret sighed, "I may have been at fault myself, not making the effort to heal the rift. What you don't know is that I have been trying to convince Christopher that we needed to reconcile with Martin for the last three years or so, just for this very reason, and he would have none of it. Now it's too late."

'Well, it may be too late for Christopher, but it isn't too late for you. Were you able to meet Martin's wife after they returned from Cornwall?"

"There was really no time," Margaret sniffed. "Once we decided to move him back here to Portugal, I had to make arrangements to come back myself."

Margaret continued to gaze out the car window, relishing the landscaping along the road leading into their community, "It's so nice to be back home, so sunny and comforting."

She turned back to Carly, "Yes, Martin's wife. Her name is Louise. I'm hoping to make her acquaintance when I return to London. Her mother lives nearby here in Portugal, and she comes to visit every February. I was thinking I could host a pool party for the children one day when they were here, invite them over for an afternoon. I'm sure that James, their oldest would enjoy that. He is such a nice well-behaved child." Margaret was thinking it could be a way to show off her grandchildren to her friends, impress them with the children's good looks and superior intelligence.

"That's a good idea. You'll have to get the mother to agree though."

"I wouldn't think it would be too difficult."

 **Note to my readers: Thanks to all of you who have left reviews and comments and personal messages. They provide motivation when I am stuck, and it's good to know you are enjoying this story, deviating as it does from the canon.**


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

Miriam had just finished with her 11:00 appointment and was grabbing a quick lunch before her 12:30 arrived when her mobile rang. Swallowing the bite she had just taken, she answered, "Miriam. How can I help you?"

"Miriam, so good to hear your voice. This is Margaret, one of your old regulars."

Miriam recognised the voice. How could she forget that polished tone full of self-confidence and condescension? "Yes, Margaret Ellingham. I remember you. How is your husband?"

"Oh …. "She could hear Margaret take in a quick breath; the line was quiet for a few moments before Margaret continued, somewhat meekly, "He is doing better, thank you for asking. In fact, I have returned to make arrangements to bring him back home, find help to care for him, that sort of thing. I was wondering if you had any time for me this week. I have missed you."

Miriam had no intention of taking Margaret on as a client once again. When Louisa called two months ago to ask about her, she had been furious to learn that the client she had confided with personal information was none other than Louisa's estranged mother-in-law. She felt betrayed. Why had this woman never told her that she was Martin's mother? It was the worst sort of betrayal, not just to herself, but also to her daughter and to Martin, the woman's son. She wanted to say all these things to this woman who had deceived her for so long, but she held her tongue. Sometimes silence is the best way to say what needs to be said. Let her dangle on the line a bit longer. "I'm not sure."

"Would you check? Please." Straight-forward request … no condescension, no haughtiness.

"This is my busiest season, but I will check. One moment please." If it had been anyone of her previous clients returned from several months away, she would have found a spot for her and been delighted to have her back and let her know, laughing and asking how she had been, but not Margaret. Miriam kept her tone strictly professional.

She put down the phone and proceeded to enjoy a bit more of her lunch before returning to the phone. "Sorry, I see that I am completely booked. You will have to find another salon. Good luck."

"Are you sure you can't fit me in … for an old faithful client." Margaret's tone was filled with sweetness, flattery, and hope. "You really are the best, you know."

"Sorry." She hung up and muttered, "Nasty old cow. Thinks she can sweet talk me into taking her back. She has another think coming." She wished she had an old-fashioned phone, one where she could slam the receiver down hard. Instead she banged her fist on the arm of the chair, "Ow!" just as the bell over the door chimed.

"Penelope. So nice to see you this afternoon." Cradling her bruised fist in her other hand, Miriam greeted her next client as she walked back to the changing room. "Come on in and get settled."

Later that evening as her last client left the salon and she was cleaning her station and putting her utensils into the steriliser for the night, she saw Margaret Ellingham walk down the street and into the shop. "Oh bugger. I suppose I should have known that old shrew wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Well she's just going to have to learn she can't always get her way."

Margaret entered the shop and Miriam faced her with her hands on her hips. "I told you that I don't have any openings right now."

Margaret had been walking towards Miriam and halted at her words. She clutched her purse in front of her skirt and replied, "Yes. I understand. But that's not why I came."

"Why did you come then?" Miriam crossed her arms and stood defiantly.

Margaret raised her head, peering at Miriam over her nose, "I thought it was time for us to clear the air, so to speak."

"Humph".

"I can understand if you are angry or confused."

"Angry yes. Confused, no. I can't believe you let me natter on and on about Louisa and her husband and never told me that you were Martin's mother."

'Yes. I should have said something, but let me explain."

"There's nothing to explain. You lied to me for years."

"I never meant to lie to you. When you first showed me Martin's picture, I was completely taken off guard. I had no idea he had married or that he had a child and was expecting another."

"Maybe you would have known if you had ever expressed any interest in his life."

"I wanted to, but my husband was completely against our reconnecting."

"That's not what I heard. Joan said you were never interested in him, which is why he spent his holidays at the farm with her."

"That's not true. We both had obligations that prevented us from spending as much time as we would have liked with Martin."

Miriam crossed her arms defiantly, "Doesn't matter now does it? What matters is that you continued to ply me for information about his family life without telling me you were his mother. How could you be so deceitful?"

"I didn't set out to be deceitful as you put it. I didn't say anything when I first found out that your daughter was married to my son because, as I said, I was stunned to discover he was married. He had never seemed the marrying type of man. And then it never seemed the right moment to just say, 'Oh by the way, I'm Martin's mother.' How could I do that? When would have been the right time? And you always went on and on about how difficult he could be, and …. "

She sighed and adopted a forlorn look hoping to elicit some sympathy.

Miriam was having none of it. She had worked with women for years and she knew all the ways they could manipulate others. She was no fool. "And …?"

"Well, after a while, it didn't seem to matter. I had tried to convince Christopher to reconcile with Martin." Margaret looked down at the floor, somewhat hesitant, screwing up her mouth as if uncertain what to say, but continued sheepishly, "I wanted to get to know my grandchildren if you must know. But Christopher had never been able to forgive Martin for going against his wishes with regard to his career, and he couldn't see any reason to reconcile now." She paused again as if struggling to find the words to go on. "So eventually I came to think of Martin and Louise and their family as your family, someone to ask after at each visit because that is what one does with one's stylist … express interest in their personal life …. if you must know."

Miriam was somewhat shocked at Margaret's statement of the unspoken contract between a stylist and her client – each expressed interest in the other's personal life as long as there was the professional relationship. Occasionally a true friendship arose from these conversations, but usually they were pleasantries exchanged during the course of the visit. She sat down in her chair and mulled over Margaret's confession. She could see how it all came about. Margaret wasn't innocent of her treatment of Martin despite placing all the blame on her husband, and she must have cringed when Miriam criticised him. At least that is what a loving mother would have felt; but she doubted that Margaret was your typical loving mother? Again, that wasn't the point. The point was that she failed to admit she was Martin's mother once she knew he was married to Louisa, although Miriam could see now why she hadn't said anything; she might have done the same if she had been in her position.

She looked over at Margaret, who had sat down in the extra chair opposite her station, rummaging in her purse, trying to appear busy, anything whilst she waited for Miriam to reply. She suddenly felt sorry for this woman sitting in front of her, a proud woman with values completely at odds with her own. "Margaret … I understand … I can see how it happened. Even so, I still feel betrayed, and I just can't take you back as a client. I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Yes. I understand." Margaret replied dejectedly, but then added in a more hopeful tone, "Perhaps we could meet occasionally – for lunch or tea – and share pictures of the children. You could update me on their progress. I'm not sure if Martin will share any news."

The thought of sharing a meal with Margaret caused her to shudder, "I don't think so. But I'll tell you what I will do. I'll ask Louisa to send you the occasional picture of the children and a note or two on their activities."

Margaret brightened considerably at this offer, "Would you? That would be wonderful. Thank you so much Miriam."

"Yes." Miriam rose to escort Margaret out the door, "Now, if you will. I must finish and close up. Paulo will be waiting for me at home. It's well past time for our evening meal."


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45**

Margaret rose from her chair and followed Miriam to the door and extended her hand, "I wish you all the best Miriam." Miriam ignored her gesture as she stood impatiently holding the door waving her hand towards the street.

Margaret walked out of the shop, head held high, ignoring Miriam's last incivility and ambled slowly toward her car, smirking with pleasure as she considered their encounter. She slid into the driver's seat, buckled her seat belt and peered into the mirror to check her make-up and push a loose hair strand back into place. " _Well, Mrs Ellingham. You've still got it. The woman has no manners at all, but what can you expect from the lower classes."_ She shrugged her shoulders as she pulled the key out of her purse _, "Doesn't matter. It's just as well that she wouldn't take you back; it would have been uncomfortable and awkward for both of you. Still, if she can get Louise to send you photos of the children, your trip up here will have been a success. All in all, that went much better than you could have hoped."_

For the next week or so, life was good. Her days were busy filled with preparations for Christopher's homecoming. She arranged to have the villa cleaned from top to bottom; they had left in a hurry and it had gathered dust and other signs of neglect in the two months they had been away. Once he had the go ahead to come home, she would rearrange the villa's furniture, which would take some thought.

Certainly, the maid's room off the kitchen was small, as was the adjoining bathroom, but it would be adequate for a live-in nurse's quarters. The maid's room had been her "craft room" so to speak, where she stored decorations used for various holidays, and where she had a small desk where she worked on the paperwork for her numerous volunteer activities. She would move that desk along with the storage boxes into Christopher's study. She would miss having her own workspace, but he rarely used his study before his illness, it was unlikely he would use it now. They would need to move a bed and dresser into the maid's room; perhaps the bed from Chris' room upstairs would do.

The most difficult decision would be whether to move a hospital bed into Chris' room upstairs or to swap the furniture in his study with his bedroom furniture. Either alternative presented problems. At least both rooms had an en-suite bath for his use. If he continued to use the upstairs bedroom, they would need to hire a chair lift to negotiate between the two floors, and they would need some kind of intercom system to enable Chris to call for the aide whenever they were needed. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of leaving Chris upstairs. It would certainly be more comvenient for her work on her various committees to have her workspace on the main floor, especially when one or two other members met with her for planning purposes. And, Chris would feel more comfortable with his things as they were. Yes. Leaving Chris upstairs was the more desirable solution.

Her evenings were spent as before, at the club for drinks with her friends and then dinner with the small circle of couples with whom they had always dined. For the first night they were all sympathetic to her predicament, wanting news of Christopher and his progress, but as the week wore on, other topics took over their dinner conversation. Several of their acquaintances were struggling with health problems and one or two more had passed on whilst she was away. A few new couples had moved into the compound and had even joined them once or twice for dinner. How quickly things changed in such a short period of time. Occasionally it occurred to her that she would be the one moving on if Christopher should die or be unable to return to their home, but she suppressed those thoughts as soon as they surfaced. She didn't want to face that prospect; she wanted everything to stay the same as it had been, an idyllic life.

Margaret wasn't looking forward to Ruth's visit when she would have to face the reality of Christopher's changed circumstances and then his eventual passing, and all that would mean. Virginia Battles' husband had died just the week before they left for London, and already her villa was up for sale. Rumour had it that she was taking a small flat in the compound now that she no longer needed the larger accommodations. Both Martin and Ruth had indicated that she would need to do the same once Christopher had passed, that she would need the funds from the sale to make ends meet after he had gone. Margaret wondered if Virginia's husband had left her with insufficient capital upon his death as it appeared that Christopher would be doing when he left her. Perhaps she should contact Virginia and meet for lunch on the pretext of offering her condolences. She might be able to encourage Ginny to talk and find out if the rumours were true. What was her husband's name? She couldn't remember, but she would need to find out if she were to appear sincere in her offer of friendship. She wondered if she was still one of Miriam's clients; if so, news of her compassion towards Virginia might reach Miriam who might consider taking her back as a client, not that she really wanted to patronize Miriam's shop again, too uncomfortable. Margaret had found a new stylist for the moment, but she didn't have Miriam's skill, but Miriam might be willing to refer her to an equally skilled stylist if she felt more compassionate towards Margaret. Miriam might even put in a good word about Margaret with Louisa who might also see it as a sign of her compassionate nature. At any rate, there were all sorts of benefits she could reap as one of Virginia's friends.

She was just waking up one Friday morning when the phone rang. She pulled off the eye mask she always wore and looked around, still a little groggy from sleep. Two more rings finally pulled her from the fog of sleep and she leaned over to the bedside table to reach for her mobile, "Hello?"

"Mummy, this is Martin. Dad has had a bad fall and broken his hip. I thought you should know."

Suddenly she was wide awake and thinking that Martin still needed to learn some manners. One didn't just blurt out bad news over the phone. Didn't he know it was good manners to greet the other party and ask how they were? She was tempted to chide him, to remind him of his manners, but perhaps the nature of his call precluded such an admonishment. His news was disturbing. "How bad is it?"

"Not good. He's in hospital. He was found early this morning lying on the floor next to his bed, but we don't know how long he had been there. The orthopaedic surgeon plans to do a hip replacement early tomorrow morning."

"Why not today?"

"They need to run various pre-surgery blood tests, get some more scans, that sort of thing, and they want to stabilize him. At his age, surgery will be traumatic."

"But he will be all right, won't he?" Despite her true enjoyment at being back home and free to go and come without having to report to Christopher her activities, she was beginning to feel lonely without him around the house. If nothing else, his presence made them a couple, and she was learning how isolated a single woman could feel in a community made mostly of couples. She wasn't ready to lose him, at least not yet.

"Hard to say. With his history of stroke, it could be touch and go. If they are able to repair the joint and he doesn't suffer another stroke whilst in surgery, he should recover, although it is likely he will be confined to a wheelchair for the remainder of his life."

Now that she was fully awake, she shifted her legs out of the bed and sat up straight. "Should I return? Is there anything I can do?"

"There really isn't anything you can do at the moment." Martin paused, "It's up to you. If you prefer, you might as well stay there until we know more. I'll keep you apprised of his condition."

Martin was speaking to her in his professional voice as if she were just the wife of one of his patients. Why could he not show a little more care for her as his mother; surely, he must know that she was worried. "What do you think I should do?"

"It's not my decision. If he should take a turn for the worse, you might want to be here to make the appropriate decisions, but until then, there is really nothing you can do. He has been sedated so he won't be able to talk to you, and he will be sedated for a day or two after the surgery. You might want to come back then. Again, it's your decision."

Whilst he was talking, she rose and made her way to the window; it looked to be another glorious day in southern Portugal. She hated the thought of going back to the gloomy winter days in London, and she had moved out of her flat, thinking that she would spend no more than a day or two in London before moving them both back to Portugal. "Very well. Keep me updated on his condition. I'll stay here until you tell me I should come."

'Yes. Uh … do you have an e-mail address where I could send you reports?"

"No. I do have a computer so I could set up an account, or have a friend show me how to do that."

"Yes … Might be a good idea. Do that. Do you have a piece of paper handy? I'll give you my e-mail address and you can contact me there when you have it set up." He paused for a few moments whilst she searched for a paper and pencil and then gave her his e-mail address. "I'll talk with you later. Good-bye."

'Yes. Martin, when do you think you will have some news?" The phone went silent. "Martin?" Once again he had hung up on her. She shook her head as she put her mobile down, and took a deep breath. Communication with him was always so difficult. How ever did Louisa put up with him, she wondered. She would have to speak to him about his manners, or lack thereof, the next time they spoke.

Later that morning after she had dressed and taken her tea and a small piece of toast, she called Carly to tell her the latest on Christopher and to ask if Geoffrey would be able to help her set up an e-mail account.


	46. Chapter 46

**Chapter 46**

Ruth finished packing her bag, closed the latch and carried it to the door of her flat along with her briefcase, and called a taxi to take her to the airport. It had been nearly two weeks since Margaret had returned to Portugal to prepare her villa for Christopher's move back home. Ruth had needed all that time to clear off her desk and arrange for a substitute psychiatrist to be on call if the prison needed someone whilst she was on "holiday".

She was not looking forward to this trip, and to be frank, she had no real desire to help her brother. He had been conniving as a child, always plotting some scheme or another that inevitably went wrong, wreaking havoc or ill will, at which point he would place blame on either Joan or herself. The fact that he hadn't provided much capital for Margaret's support after his death wasn't surprising. Then again, he knew Margaret well, they were alike in more ways than one could count. She _would_ land on her feet, of that Ruth was sure. However, Ruth had promised Martin that she would assist his mother in that landing, and she had resigned herself to keeping that promise.

It was Martin, the son that they had neglected and abused throughout his supposed childhood, for whom she had concern. With several years of therapy, he had managed to overcome most of the damage they had inflicted on him, but it was all likely to unravel if he had to endure their presence much longer. Margaret was manipulative, and there was no telling how much damage she could inflict on his psyche given enough time. Ruth could see the damage building in his eyes when they first arrived in Cornwall for the holidays. His angst had eased whilst he was on holiday with his family, but it had returned once they were back in London.

Ruth gave thanks pretty much every day for Louisa, Martin's wife. The two of them couldn't be more different, but despite their differing personalities, they were a devoted couple. She was openly affectionate, and under her guidance, he had learned to be more open with his feelings as well. Ruth knew that Louisa was instrumental in helping him through his initial therapy, and she was fairly certain that Louisa's attentions had a powerful effect in easing his stress over the holidays. The children, mostly ignorant of their father's difficulties, were powerful healers in their own right. They gave Martin unconditional love, something he had never had in his life until they were born.

She had considered Christopher's illness as she was finishing her packing. He was a proud man, and she knew he was embarrassed that his sister should see him broken and disabled. She had checked on him every day after Margaret left, and had been pleased to see that he had been working on his physical therapy and making progress. She knew that he was determined to prove to her that he could overcome his current situation, and he had been in high spirits for the past few days when he demonstrated his ability to take a few steps without assistance from an aide. Of course, he needed the help of a walking frame. Nevertheless, it was great progress, and she encouraged him to continue. She had spoken with Martin the previous day to discuss his father's gains and to suggest that he stop by and urge his father to continue with his therapy to become more self-sufficient before moving back to Portugal.

As she sat in the taxi on the way to the airport, she checked once more that she had all her papers in order, the confirmation of the hire car she had ordered and the address of the B&B where she planned to stay for the week that she would be in Portugal. Margaret had not offered her a room in their villa, and she wouldn't have accepted the offer if she had. Louisa had called her mother, told her of the situation, and Miriam had immediately recommended the B&B of a friend for Ruth. The B&B appeared to be a lovely older house, or casa, a few blocks from the centre of town and just a short walk down to the harbour. Miriam promised her that the house had been recently updated and that her friend Vivian, another British ex-pat, kept it in immaculate condition. She was certain that Ruth would be very comfortable there. As Miriam had promised, the proprietor was very friendly and helpful, perhaps a little too friendly as she chattered on and on about the delights of her town. Ruth was finally able to end the call after Vivian had assured her that it was an easy drive from the airport to her casa.

They reached the airport on schedule and she hailed a porter to help take her bags into the terminal. As she was standing in the queue to check her bags, her mobile rang. She was tempted to ignore it, but fearing it could be one of her patients or some other emergency, she pulled it out of her bag. Martin's name flashed on the screen. "Hello. Martin?"

"Ruth. Dad fell this morning and has broken his hip. You should cancel your trip."

 _Martin was never one to mince his words,"_ she thought somewhat stunned. "Oh, for goodness sake. You called just in time. I was about to check my bags with the airline. Let me call you back in a minute or so."

'Ruth! Ruth!" She heard Martin shout out just as she rang off. She put her mobile into the pocket of her coat and stepped out of the line, shuffling her bags to the side with her briefcase balanced precariously on top of her luggage. She stuffed her ticket into the side pocket of her briefcase and rolled her bags over to a bank of seats away from the crowds. Sitting down, she rang him back and continued the conversation as if there had been no pause, "Martin. Have you told your mother?"

"Of course." His reply was curt.

"And …. ?"

"And what?" Martin sounded distracted. She could hear him shuffling papers.

"Is she planning to return today or tomorrow?"

"Not that I'm aware. She asked to be kept informed as to his condition."

"Have you told Louisa?"

"Yes. And I told her I would try to contact you before you left."

"Good. I had better contact the B&B where I was planning to stay, and cancel my car hire, and let Miriam know I won't be joining her for dinner this evening."

"Yes."

"I'll call you after I arrive home and make those calls. You can update me on his condition then."

"Yes. Good."

"Will you be in the office or in theatre?"

"Office, consultations all afternoon."

"Right."

Later, back in her flat and after she had cancelled her car hire and her B&B reservation, accepting Vivian's extended condolences, she called Martin to get an update. Martin told her that the orthopaedic surgeon who had examined Christopher had decided to repair his hip the next morning. In the meantime, they had him sedated to ease his pain, and to prevent him from injuring himself further. His progress with the physical therapy had given him a false sense of confidence in his ability to support himself. When he climbed out of bed the previous night to use the toilet, he fell after a few steps without the support of his walking frame. Now in hospital, there was concern that he might forget where he was and try to climb out of the bed again, further damaging his bones.

The care home staff had not considered him to be a danger to himself and had not applied to have him restrained at night or to supervise him one-on-one. Obviously, he needed the extra care, but now it was too late. Martin was furious with the care home's failure to prevent such an accident, and he let loose a rant castigating the entire industry filled with 'idiots' and 'imbeciles' and threatening to report the fools running this particular home to the supervisory board. Ruth understood his anger, but declined to engage him in conversation. He needed to vent his frustration. If he continued to suggest censure in the next day or two, she would discuss the pros and cons with him when he broached the subject again. She doubted he would. That particular care home had a sterling reputation, but even the best facilities experienced an occasional mishap.

In the meantime, she needed to contact the home health care agencies that she had contacted and cancel the appointments she had arranged for the following week. But first she wanted to talk with Louisa.


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47**

Louisa was feeding Joanie when her mobile rang, and she had to stretch over the baby to the table where she had laid it. "Hello"

"Louisa, it's Ruth."

Louisa sank back into her nursing chair and greeted her husband's aunt. "Ruth, thank you for calling. What a day! Poor Martin."

"Yes, I've cancelled my trip to Portugal and am back home. I just spoke with Martin and he's updated me on Christopher's condition. It doesn't sound good."

"No. His Dad was doing so well. And now … well ... it will be weeks before he can start rehabilitation again."

"If he ever does." Ruth wasn't optimistic. "Hip fractures are dangerous at his age. There can be all sorts of complications."

'Really?" Louisa hadn't thought beyond the surgery needed to repair the hip. "What kind of complications?"

"As I said there are all sorts of possible complications. The surgical site can become infected, although that is uncommon nowadays with strict adherence to sterile procedures and the use of antibiotics. The same for UTI's, urinary tract infections and bedsores, but those can be managed … usually. I believe pneumonia is a common complication, and can be fatal if not caught in time. That's one of the reasons patients are encouraged to breathe deeply after every surgical procedure."

"Yes, I remember I had to blow on a tube several times a day after Joanie's birth even though I didn't have any general anaesthesia. They told me it was a precaution to keep my lungs clear."

"Really. That's very interesting. I don't know all that much about it, but I would think an epidural wouldn't necessitate such caution. Well, you learn something new each day, or you should. With respect to Christopher, I suspect the most serious complication may be a DVT – deep vein thrombosis, blood clots in the legs due to inactivity. The clot can break off and lodge in a blood vessel in the lungs, a pulmonary embolism which is frequently fatal."

"Oh my."

"It's good that he was becoming more active before his fall. DVT's can occur whenever the legs are immobile for any period of time. It can be a risk to airline passengers on long flights if they don't move about the cabin from time to time. I'm a psychiatrist, not a practicing medical doctor, so there may be other complications. But it's not a good situation. I'm sure Martin has considered all those possibilities."

"Yes, I suppose he would have. We haven't discussed it."

"So how is he doing?" There was sincere concern in Ruth's voice. Louisa knew how fond Ruth was of Martin, but she wasn't sure she could answer Ruth's question with any certainty.

"You know Martin. He says he's fine."

'Yes, but how is he really?"

Louisa thought about Ruth's question. How was Martin, really? When she asked him this morning how he was doing, he gave her his standard answer, 'I'm fine, thank you." It used to frustrate her when he gave her that answer when she knew that he must be feeling something, sadness or anxiety or fear or anger; but she had gradually learned that he really thought he was fine. He was still physically healthy; therefore, he was fine. She had learned to be more specific, to ask how he was feeling and that sometimes provoked a more nuanced answer, but not always. He still was not a man who was able to recognise, let alone articulate, his deeper emotions until much later after a troubling event, if then.

She had learned to read the unspoken clues to his feelings. When he was deeply disturbed by something, it was common for him to lose his appetite or suffer from insomnia, or close himself up in his study to work on his clock. He had exhibited each of those behaviours at one time or another in the month following his parents' appearance in London. The two weeks in Cornwall had been a healing time; he ate and slept well. Of course, the fresh air and vigorous exercise walking on the cliffs and exploring tidal pools and playing with the boys had stimulated his appetite, as had the availability of fresh fish and vegetables. She was certain that her attentions most nights in their bedroom had helped him sleep soundly as well.

The return to London and the need to attend his father's and mother's needs had initially affected both his appetite and his sleep, but with Ruth's assumption of those duties, he had been getting more sleep in the past week or so. She wasn't sure how this latest turn of events would affect him.

"I really don't know. He was doing fine … really. Your help with his mother has been a godsend. But now? It's too soon to say how he will handle his Dad's return to hospital. I don't think his mother plans to return to London right away. I'll let you know if I think he is struggling."

"Good. I can't say whether we should encourage his mother to return. There's really nothing she can do to make Christopher recover faster, and her presence would undoubtedly be an irritant to us all. Best to let her stay where she is unless Christopher starts asking for her."

There it was again. Joan never had anything good to say about Martin's parents, and neither did Ruth. Louisa found it disturbing. What was it about these people that was so abhorrent? "You know Ruth, I've been thinking. I'd like to meet Martin's parents. He doesn't want me to meet them, but I just feel I should. If they are as bad as he says, we may not get along, but I feel so helpless."

"There's nothing you can do to help, you know."

Ruth paused and neither of them spoke for a minute. Joanie had finished nursing and was starting to squirm; Louisa knew she needed to be winded or she might be difficult later. "Ruth, I want to continue this conversation, but I need to tend to the baby. Can I call you back in a few minutes? I've been feeding her as we have been talking, but I need to wind her. It will only take a few minutes. I'll call you right back."

Louisa winded Joanie, then changed her nappy and put a fresh onesie on her. With the baby cleaned up and on her play mat, Louisa picked up her phone. Ruth answered on the second ring. "Ah. Took a bit longer than you led me to believe," Ruth wryly observed.

"Yeah, I guess it did. Needed a nappy change and all the rest. You know what I mean."

"No matter. I've been thinking. I understand how you might be feeling side-lined with all that's happened with Martin's parents. Perhaps you should meet them, just for you own peace of mind."

"I'd really like that."

"Yes. I'll speak with Martin. I will warn you that his father can be quite nasty. He may be very critical to your face. You should know that he refers to you as 'that fisherman's daughter'. He's convinced that Martin married well beneath his station."

Louisa felt a pang of insecurity flash through her heart. It was the one fear that she always carried with her despite Martin's assurances that her social background meant nothing to him, that to him, she was as well-bred as any London socialite. She responded with a light-hearted rejoinder, hoping that Ruth wouldn't see through her spritely spirit to the hurt she felt in her heart, "Does he know what my mother does? If he thinks that being the daughter of a fisherman is bad, what would he think of my mother being a hairdresser? And that she has been his wife's hairdresser for several years now. I wonder if he knows that?"

Ruth had known Louisa long enough to recognise that her playful tone belied her true feelings. Ruth knew that her remarks might be distressing, but she had to let Louisa know what she was up against. How could she comfort her without downplaying the real situation? "I doubt that he knows about Miriam's profession. You know how hairdressers and their clients share personal information; I'm certain that's how Margaret discovered that you and Martin were married. Undoubtedly, she was so ashamed of the connection that she would never tell Christopher. I don't mean to hurt you, but that is the way she is."

"Okay." Louisa's tone was quiet.

Ruth took a deep breath and plunged ahead with words she found hard to speak despite the heartfelt sentiment behind them, "And you must know that I love you, just as Martin loves you. I have never thought you were his inferior. In fact, you are the best thing that ever happened to him, and I am so grateful that he found you."

"Oh Ruth," Louisa started to sob.

"Perhaps I should call back at another time." Just like Martin, Ruth could be uncomfortable with excessive displays of emotion.

"No. It's just so hard. I know that Martin loves me. And I have come to love you too Ruth. Why do his parents have to be so difficult?"

"They always have been, and at their age, it's doubtful they will change. Let me think on it. I will talk to Martin and try to convince him that he should introduce you to them. Okay?"

"Yes. I would appreciate that. They might not change their minds about me, but at least I will see what he is dealing with … put a face to his tormentors."

"Yes … his tormentors … good description."


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**

All afternoon, after her conversation with Ruth, Louisa thought about Martin's parents. It had been obvious even before they married that his parents had hurt him deeply. Joan had hinted at abuse, and Ruth's rare comments were disparaging. Why else would he never speak of them, that is until now when his father's illness, and his parents' neediness, forced him to resume the relationship. Despite his attempt to keep the relations with his parents as impersonal and business-like as possible, he was miserable. Their presence cast a shadow over his entire disposition, and by extension over their family life. Even though she might not be able to mitigate any damage they were inflicting on him now, she truly felt it would be beneficial to meet each of them to understand what he was facing each time he had to interact with them. The dilemma she faced that afternoon was how to approach him, how to ask him for an introduction.

That night, after they had shared supper, bathed the children and put them to bed, Louisa prepared their nightly cup of tea and carried it into the lounge and sat beside Martin on the sofa. "A little time to ourselves, right?"

He picked up his tea and lifted it to his nose, inhaling the aromatic steam as it wafted up, "Yes." He paused for a moment, "I noticed that Robert is a little congested. I took his temperature, but he's not febrile."

"Yes, I noticed that as well. Most of the children at his nursery are sniffling. It's that time of year. Lots of cold viruses going around. He'll be home tomorrow. I'll ask Emily to keep an eye on him when she takes him out to play."

"Don't you think it would be better to keep him inside to rest and recover."

"Perhaps. I'll see how he is feeling in the morning. If it's just a cold, a bit of fresh air can be quite beneficial."

"Yes. I suppose. Just don't let him overdo it. And we don't want Joanie to come down with a cold."

"I don't know how we can prevent that. She's going to catch all these bugs eventually you know, but don't worry. The children will be fine." She wrapped her hands around her cup, warming them, "How was your day, then?"

"Busy."

"With patients, or with your dad?"

"Both."

He peered at her over his cup, and she could see confusion in his eyes. Had Ruth already spoken with him about introducing her to his parents? She could tell he was debating what to disclose. Better to start with something easy. "Any problems with your patients?"

"Not really. Pretty typical day."

"Your dad then?"

He sighed, "It's not good. Hip replacement early tomorrow morning. I should be there before they start. I'll try not to wake you."

"Are you assisting?"

"Noooo … not my place."

She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head, encouraging him to continue.

"I'd like to check him over before they start, and I'd like an update before they begin, any overnight changes I should know about, that sort of thing."

"Okay."

They sat on the sofa quietly enjoying their tea and Louisa slid over a bit to sit closer, smiled up at him and settled her hand softly on his thigh. "You are a good man, Martin Ellingham."

He glanced back at her and raised his eyebrow sceptically. "Mm."

She stroked his thigh nervously, tapping her fingers as she slid her hand up and back. "How long will his recovery take?"

"Mm. Hard to say. They will likely use spinal or epidural anaesthesia because of his stroke risk, but he will also be sedated, and it may take him the rest of the day to recover from the sedation. If all goes well, he will be fully conscious and under minimal pain medication by the day after and he will be encouraged to sit up and possibly try to walk."

"Walk? Is that wise?"

"It's best to start moving to avoid blood clots. Usually patients are discharged after three to five days, but I imagine he will be in hospital longer than most given his advanced age and will be discharged back to a care-home where he will require extensive physical therapy."

"Sounds daunting."

"Yes. I doubt that he will be returning to Portugal for months."

He took a sip of his tea and stared out into space and sighed. "I suppose I should look into finding a better care home. This last one came highly recommended, but to let this kind of thing happen to one of their patients? It's neglect of the highest order," he growled.

"Mmm …" Louisa lifted her hand off of his thigh and shifted her legs so she was facing him, "Will your mother come back to London while he recovers?"

"I don't know."

"Oh."

She finished her tea and set her cup down on the end table. "I was wondering … "she paused.

"What?"

She stroked his arm, resting her head against his shoulder. He was tense; she could feel it in the way he was sitting with his torso held slightly away from the back of the couch, the muscles in his arm firm under her hand. This wasn't going to be easy. Best to be straight-forward. Martin wasn't good with the indirect approach.

"I was wondering if I could meet him, and your mother as well whenever she returns."

Martin held up his hand and shook his head against the idea, whilst acknowledging her request, "Yes. Ruth told me that she thought it wise for you to meet."

"You spoke with Ruth?"

"Yes. She came to see me after my last appointment and joined me when I went to check on Dad before coming home." He hesitated and gazed at her intently. "But Louisa", he continued. "I really don't want him to meet you."

She pulled away shifting her weight under her leg and then turned to face him head on, "Are you ashamed of me? Is that it?"

"No, no, never." He leaned in toward her, "Louisa, he is a pretentious snob and a lecher. He will either criticise you because you are from Cornwall, or he will leer and make inappropriate advances to you because you are such a beautiful woman. I don't want to put you in either situation."

She smiled inwardly at his assertion that she was a beautiful woman. She knew how he felt from the way he often gazed at her, love and appreciation unmistakable in his eyes, but he wasn't one to express his feelings verbally. It was nice to hear him say it, and she felt she should thank him for the compliment, but she didn't want to stray too far from the topic at hand. "Martin, I am perfectly capable of standing up for myself."

A smile flitted across his face and he replied whilst picking up one of her hands, rubbing it with his fingers. "Yes. I know you are."

"Okay. Maybe it's time for me to do just that." She placed her other hand over his and looked him sternly in the eye. "To be honest Martin, I feel shut out whilst you work through this family drama." She tightened her grip on his hand and continued. "Well, I am your family and I belong at your side whilst you are doing battle with them. I want to know the foe, and I can't help you unless I truly know with whom you are contending."

He gazed at her with his eyes wide open and once again a tentative smile flitted across his face as he sighed, "Very well. I will arrange it, perhaps in two or three days when he is fully alert after his surgery."

"Promise."

"Yes."

"Thank you, Martin."

She snuggled into his side whilst he finished the last few sips of his tea. He pulled his hand out of her grasp and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. Her hair was down, out of its ponytail and he ran his fingers through it, then kissed the top of her head. "James seems excited about his science project. I'd like to learn more about it. From what he's told us, his teachers seem to be challenging him. I had been concerned that his school might not be as rigorous as mine was. I'm hopeful that I was wrong."

"It's a good school, one of the best private schools in the city. I don't think you have cause for concern, my darling husband." She reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "But I'm glad that you care."

"Of course I care, Louisa. I want our children to have the best education possible."

"I know you do."

"I plan to ask James to show me what he has done so far, and explain to me what he is trying to do. Explaining it to another person is a good way to reinforce his learning and to encourage him to think creatively."

"Yes, it is. I've never heard you discuss educational concepts before. Very good insight."

"You seem to forget that I spend a part of each day training aspiring surgeons. Making them articulate their ideas and approaches to treatment is essential in assessing their understanding of the material."

"My husband, brilliant surgeon and esteemed educator."

"Yes … well …. Hmmm."

She grinned at him and gave him a tender kiss, "Perhaps we should make it an early night …. If you have to get up early tomorrow for your Dad's surgery."

He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, and returned the kiss, lingering over her lips longingly. Slowly pulling away, he gazed deeply into her eyes and whispered a reply, "Yes, good idea."

He leaned over to pick up the tea cups and stood up, "I'll just take these cups to the kitchen."

Louisa reached over and took them from him, and she headed to the kitchen herself, "I can do that. Why don't you go on up."

He stood fixed to the spot, gazing at her as she went until she turned around smiling and, tilting her head towards the stairs, encouraged him, "Go on then. I'll be right up to join you."

He tucked his head, and raising his eyebrows suggestively in her direction, headed over to the stairs, "Right. Good."

Delighted with his response, she smiled and echoed his sentiment, "Yes. Good."


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49**

A few days later Louisa left their home to meet Martin in his office for a quick lunch. He was running a little late with his morning procedures so she settled onto the couch in his office with Joanie napping in her push chair after her late morning feed. Louisa hadn't been to his office since Joanie was born and the staff all gathered round to admire the latest Ellingham progeny. Morwenna was particularly thrilled to see the baby, although disappointed that Joanie was sleeping. She desperately wanted to hold the baby. She and her IT boyfriend Al had married two years before and were thinking about starting a family; and after the rest of the staff went back to their stations, she stayed to talk with Louisa about the challenges of caring for a new-born.

"Well, there's the loss of sleep. That's probably the hardest part and can go on for months. You have to be prepared for that. Do you plan to go back to work after the baby is born?"

"Kind of have to. We couldn't live on what Al makes alone. My mum has offered to keep the baby whilst I work if we have one. She keeps asking us when we're going to start a family … kind of pressuring us to have a go at it."

"Mmm …. How do you feel about that?"

"Not sure really. We'd like to have a family … someday. I'm just not sure we're really ready yet."

"Yeah, it's a big responsibility."

"I'm not sure my mum sees it that way. She just wants grandchildren."

Louisa laughed gently, "Fortunately, neither Martin nor I had that kind of pressure since our parents weren't around." Louisa paused for a moment and added wistfully, "Which is actually kind of sad."

'I'm so sorry. I thought your mum was still with you."

Louisa poked a strand of hair behind her ears, "Well, she's still alive, but she lives in Portugal. We do see her once or twice a year, but to be honest, she's hardly the maternal type."

"I know Mr. Ellingham's parents are still living, sort of, given that his Dad is so sick. What about his mum? Does she spend any time with the children?"

"No. They live in Portugal as well." Louisa didn't elaborate, not wanting to divulge Martin's estrangement from his parents.

Louisa continued, "It's nice you have your mum, but it can be difficult if she is pressuring you. Wait until you and Al are ready. There's no rush. Look at Martin and me."

Morwenna smiled back at her, or rather at Joanie.

Louisa cocked her head, "You know what they call us?"

"Nooo…?" Morwenna screwed up her mouth, looking puzzled and nervous. Louisa had the sudden thought that perhaps she was thinking of all the names that the staff had for Martin; they probably had a few choice nicknames for her as well, and she laughed.

"I don't mean what they call Martin around hospital." She chuckled, "I'm sure that the staff has several colourful nicknames for Martin…and maybe for me as well. No, I mean what they call prospective parents like us who are older than average. In obstetrics, they call us geriatric."

Louisa could see the relief in Morwenna's face as she laughed along with her.

"You're still in your twenties, right?"

"Yeah. Twenty-eight, twenty-nine in June."

For some reason Louisa thought she was younger even though she had been Martin's admin assistant before she herself had met him more than nine years prior. "You still have time before the biological clock starts ticking, a few more years at least. Don't be in any hurry to become parents."

She leaned in close, lowering her voice, "And when you do get ready to conceive, come back and I'll tell you all about the indignities involved with giving birth and breastfeeding."

Morwenna's eyes bulged out, "Really?"

"Yeah."

Martin walked into his office just at that moment. "Why aren't you at your desk?" he barked at Morwenna when he saw her sitting with Louisa on his sofa.

"Lunch break?", she answered with a tone that indicated, " _Duh? isn't it obvious?"_ then continued, "Calls are rolling over to the answer phone. I'll check it when I get back to my desk. Don't worry."

She stood up and turned to Louisa, "I guess that's my cue to return to work." She leaned over to take one more peek at Joanie, "Nice chatting with you Louisa, and so nice to see this little one." She looked up at Martin and nodded her head toward the baby, "Proper job on that Mr. Ellingham. She's just beautiful."

Martin nodded his head, pursing his lips and grunting his usual, "Mmm. Close the door on your way out."

After she left, he leaned down to brush his fingers against Joanie's cheeks, then took the lunch bag that Louisa handed to him and spread their lunch out on his desk.

"What were you and Miss Newcross discussing?"

"Oh, babies and that sort of thing. She and her husband are thinking of starting a family."

"Humph. Really? I hope not anytime soon. That would be very inconvenient."

"Oh Martin. You want her to devote her life to her job as your assistant? That's not fair. It's only natural that she will want a family too."

"She will be very difficult to replace."

"I'm sure she will want to return to work."

"Right, and I'll have to put up with some stand-in whilst she is on maternity leave, and then she will have to stay home when the baby is sick. All very inconvenient."

"She said her mother will take care of the baby, but you can't expect her to come back to work right after giving birth."

"Humph."

After they finished their light lunch, they headed down the hall to the wing where Christopher was recovering from his hip surgery. They had agreed that Martin would go in first to check his father's chart and to do a quick medical check whilst Louisa waited in the hall. Louisa could hear him interact with his father. If she hadn't known better, she would have assumed this man was one of Martin's regular patients, not anyone special, certainly not his father. The interaction was strictly doctor-patient, strictly professional.

"How are you feeling today Dad?"

"Fine, fine." His Dad sounded impatient.

"Any discomfort with your incision?"

"No. Pain meds take care of that."

"Good. Is the staff getting you up and moving about?"

His Dad sounded annoyed as he replied, "Yes, yes." He mimicked the nurses, adopting a high-pitched tone and a lower-class accent," Time to get up and walk Mr. Ellingham. Don't want you to get a DVT."

"And you are able to walk on your own?"

There was a moment of silence. Louisa waited for his Dad to answer, "I can walk just fine."

"Mm. I'm sure you can."

She could hear Martin put the clipboard with his medical notes back, "Um … Dad, are you up for a visitor?"

"Depends. Who is it?"

Martin walked over to the door and reached out for Joanie's push chair, nodding to Louisa to follow him, "Come through."

Martin pushed the baby through the door and Louisa followed, "Dad, this is my wife, Louisa. Louisa, my father, Christopher Ellingham."

Louisa clung to Martin's arm at the foot of the bed as she greeted Christopher with a gentle smile, "It's very nice to meet you Mr. Ellingham."

An initial expression of shock crossed Christopher's face as he realised who had just entered his room. He squinted at her and muttered, "The fisherman's daughter."

Louisa heard what he intended to be a slur on her parentage and, raising her head with dignity, quickly spoke up, 'Yes, my father was a fisherman, and a very successful fisherman as well. I was quite proud of him."

Christopher turned to Martin, "Quite spiky, isn't she?"

Martin glared at his father, and his father returned his attention to Louisa, "Come closer so I can get a good look at you."

Louisa took a step forward and Martin grabbed her arm, "No need. He can see you perfectly fine where you are."

'I'm not going to bite her!" Christopher shot back at Martin. "I just wanted to see what it was that made you marry her. I will admit she's quite pretty."

"Yes, "Martin agreed as he leaned down to pick up the baby who had started to fuss.

"Ah, your latest sprog." He screwed up his mouth, "Third child, isn't it?"

He looked Louisa up and down, leering, "Have to admit my dear, if I were in better shape, I'd have trouble keeping my hands off you as well."

Martin puffed up in indignation, "Dad. That's completely inappropriate."

"Son, it's obvious you have trouble keeping it in your pants when she's around. How else to explain all the children? You do know there are ways to enjoy the delights of the flesh without reaping the consequences? And if an accident happens it's easy enough these days to terminate a pregnancy."

Despite Martin's warning about his father's incivility, Louisa could barely believe her ears and she glared at him, stunned at his casual reference to abortion, but he continued, "Three children, what were you thinking? You never did have any common sense. Ridiculous!"

Martin grabbed Louisa's hand, hissing, "It's time for us to go." Pulling her along behind him, he snarled at his Dad," You have no idea what you're talking about. I'll check in on you tomorrow. Good-bye."

Christopher shouted out after them, "Don't go. We were just getting to know one another. Please, Martin …" He was becoming more and more agitated, "Please don't go. Martin, Louise. Come back."

Martin handed Joanie to Louisa and indicated that she should go down to the family lounge area near the lifts, and he went back into his father's room, demanding impatiently, "Dad. What is it?"

Louisa ignored Martin's directions to the lounge and stayed put just outside the door. She could hear Christopher, who had started crying, "Where is Louise? Bring her back? Where is your mother. I want Margaret. You have your wife. I need mine."

He continued to sob, blubbering, "Margaret, I need my honey-buns. Where is she?"

"Good God". Martin shuddered with revulsion at his father's emotional outburst, curling his lip as he reached over and gave his father a tissue, "Dad, get a grip. Mum went to Portugal before you fell to prepare the house for your move back. I told her to stay until you recovered from the anaesthesia. I'll notify her to return as soon as she is able."

Christopher choked down a sob and Louisa could hear his sigh, "Please. Yes, tell her to come soon. I need her."

"Yes. Right." Martin replied, and then added as he turned toward the door, "And my wife's name is Louis-a."

He marched out of the room, surprised to see Louisa standing next to the door jamb listening.

She looked up at him, scrunching her face into a look of puzzlement, not wanting to say anything lest Christopher might hear, although she could hear him shouting at Martin," Bring Louise to visit again soon. She is so pretty, so prett …" His voice trailed off as he realised that Martin was no longer there.

'Your name is Louisa. Why can neither of my parents remember your name?" Martin was muttering to himself as he turned to go down the hall.

Louisa stopped him and whispered, "Martin, the push chair?"

"Yes," He went back into the room in a huff, grabbing the chair and yanking it out into the hall unnoticed by his father who was fussing with the television remote.

"Do you want to put Joanie into the chair?"

"No, I think I will hold her for a few moments longer." She shifted the baby to her shoulder, patting her back and kissing the top of her head.

As they walked down the hall, she whispered, 'Is he going to be alright?"

"Hard to say. He's obviously not himself. Stroke induced mood swings, I'd say. No telling how he'll react when my mother comes back. I'll send her an e-mail when I return to my office."

He stopped for a moment and looked down at her, "I'm sorry you had to experience that."

"To be honest Martin, I expected worse, although I was shocked when he suggested an abortion as a means of birth control."

"Yes." Martin was dismayed with the entire encounter, and he leaned against the wall as a nurse strode past. There was a tone of dejection in his voice as he reflected, "I warned you that he could be critical. He has never approved of anything I have ever done."

Martin was always supremely confidant, rarely showing any vulnerability, yet here he was downtrodden by his father's words. Louisa desperately wanted to hug and comfort him, but she knew that the middle of the hospital corridor was not the place. "That horrible, spiteful man. He has no idea. Let's go back to your office."

"No. You go on home. The boys need you, and I have consultations."

She placed her hand on his chest as a small gesture of comfort, "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Alright, I will, but you need to remember that we think, I think, you are the most accomplished man in the entire country."

He gazed down at her and his eyes reflected a hint of humour, "Yes, I know you do." He reached for Joanie and lifting her up to face him, he confided, "Your mother is delusional."

Louisa chuckled and punched him softly in the arm, "Am not."

Just then the lift arrived. Martin had moved Joanie to the crook of his elbow and reached for the push chair, and they entered the lift. Louisa followed, relieved that the dark cloud that his father's dismissiveness had cast over her husband seemed to have lifted. They were alone in the lift as the doors closed, and so she whispered into his ear, "I love you."

He gave the baby one last hug and then buckled her into her push chair, "Yes."

The lift doors opened, they moved into the hallway, and they bid each other farewell. A quick "Good-bye" from Martin, and a "see you at dinner" from Louisa. She watched him stride down the corridor to his consulting rooms, straight and tall, nodding as one or two of the staff greeted him. The twitching of his fingers was the only sign that he wasn't complete master of his world. Louisa's eyes followed him until he turned a corner, and she pondered how her husband, an extraordinary man, a truly extraordinary man, had managed to overcome his abysmal parentage.


	50. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50**

Margaret was preparing for afternoon drinks with her friends when Martin's call came in. She stared at the phone for a few moments. He usually sent her an e-mail in the evening with an update on Christopher's condition. He hadn't actually called since Chris fell in the care home. A terrifying thought scrabbled through her mind, " _What if Chris has died? What will I do?"_ She stared at the screen, frozen. _"Don't answer_. _Wait to see what he says and prepare your answer._ "

After eight rings the call went to her answer phone. " _Yes, yes good._ " she thought. " _Better to listen to Martin's message. No need to respond to the bad news immediately. I can steal myself and decide how to respond later."_

Soon enough the light went on indicating Martin had left a message. Bracing herself, she gingerly pressed the key to listen, "Mum. Dad has been asking for you. I think it's time for you to return to London. You might want to call the estate agent who helped you find the flat last November to see if he can find you something comparable. Dad is improving, and should be released to the care home within the week. It will be another month or longer after that before he will be able to consider moving back to Portugal."

"Damn" she thought. "I was just getting back into the swing of things here, and now I have to go back to London. The timing couldn't be worse."

Despite the changes in the composition of her wider circle of friends, Margaret had managed to make a special place for herself in the past few weeks without Christopher to act as her escort. There were plenty of single men who were more than happy to wait on her, and she was enjoying the attention. Most were recent widowers, but some had been unattached for several years and three of them had joined her for lunch or drinks, expressing an interest in spending even more time with her. She was beginning to realize that these men were lonely and that she would have her pick of the eligible men when Chris eventually succumbed to his strokes. When she arrived back in Portugal, after all those months in London, she was exhausted, feeling weary and haggard. She feared that no man would ever look at her again, but now she felt rejuvenated, ready to step back into the social whirl. It was gratifying to know that she was still attractive, that she still had the power to reel in any man she chose.

And then there was Peter Symington, that special friend of Sylvia and her husband Morgan. He had lost his wife just the previous year and was still in mourning, but Margaret could tell that he found her enchanting. He also happened to be an old friend of Ruth's. On that very first evening when he had joined them for dinner, right after they were introduced, he had asked if she were related to Dr. Ruth Ellingham. When she affirmed their connection, he commented that he had hoped to spend time with Ruth whilst he was in Portugal, and he was disappointed when she had cancelled her trip at the last minute.

Peter was a charming man, tall and trim with a shock of salt and pepper hair that fell over his forehead in a boyish manner. He had a witty sense of humour and his piecing blue eyes twinkled every time he looked at her. She had shared a lunch date with Peter just last week and they were planning a day trip down the coast for tomorrow. A few more weeks and she was certain that she could have him eating out of her hand, ready to propose if only she were free. Wouldn't that be delicious, especially if Ruth were interested in him as well. Margaret had considered the delightful ramifications should she succeed in enticing Ruth's friend. It would be sweet revenge for the enmity that Ruth had directed at her over the years. But now she would have to cancel, all to spend time in that care home with her invalid husband.

Might as well get on with it. Perhaps she could elicit sympathy for her situation, an attractive woman devoted to her ailing husband but still able to hold her head up in society … yes this might be the most difficult role of her life, the martyr. It wasn't a role she for which she would have chosen to audition, but life's casting director had his own ideas and Margaret was determined to shine in her performance. She called the airline to make a reservation to fly back to London the next afternoon, reserved a room at the hotel for three nights, and then left her villa to join her friends at the club. She would call the estate agent in the morning to arrange for a flat for the remainder of her stay.

Her friends were all concern for Christopher's recovery and wished her well on her return to London with best wishes for a quick return to Portugal. Peter volunteered to take her to the airport the next afternoon. He was such a gentleman, loading her bags into the boot of his hire car and escorting her into the airport as far as the security gate. He even gave her a kiss on the cheek as she left him to go to the boarding area. Yes, he would make a lovely husband if no one else grabbed him first, and she gave him her sweetest smile and waved good-bye as she passed through security and headed to her gate. She made a mental note to call him once she was settled in London to let him know she arrived safely and to ensure that he would continue to think of her.

Arriving at the London airport, she was on her own. She had sent her arrival information to Martin hoping he would pick her up and take her to hospital, but he hadn't responded to her e-mail. At the very least he could have arranged for a car to meet her and help with her luggage, but there was no one there to meet her. She had to find a porter to carry her luggage to the taxi rank, where she joined the queue waiting for a ride to the city. It was late when she arrived at the hotel, nearly half five, and she was seething at Martin's insensitivity to her needs, but she also knew it was important that she make an appearance at hospital. She quickly freshened up and called for a taxi even though the hotel was only a few blocks from hospital. It had been a long day, and she was tired, not looking forward to seeing either Christopher or Martin.

She placed a call to Martin's mobile and left a message that she was on her way. Pity it was so late, else she could have spoken with his assistant, Miss Newcross. Flibbertigibbet she might appear to be, but she was more than competent in managing her boss. Margaret was certain that, with a little encouragement, Miss Newcross would have made him take her call. Margaret arrived at hospital just at 6:30 and checked with the information desk to inquire as to Christopher's room. She then made her way up, knocked on his door and entered. He was lying in the bed, a frown on his face, staring at his dinner in disgust. "It's about time you showed up. Haven't had a decent visitor since my operation. And the food in this prison, it's inedible."

She stared at him with steely eyes. "Good evening Christopher. What has happened to your manners?" She wasn't going to tolerate his incivility anymore. "The least you could do would be to greet me properly. I was told you were asking for me. Perhaps my informant misunderstood." She raised her head imperiously and sniffed.

He waved his fork at her, "You should have been here from the start. It's your duty as my wife to ensure that I am cared for properly whilst in hospital."

"Martin told me you were unconscious and that I wasn't needed."

"What does he know."

"Well, I'm here now." She made a quick scan of the room and set her purse down on a table. "But I've a mind to return to Portugal and leave you to it if you continue to be rude and difficult."

She walked over to the bed and glanced at his meal tray, "Do you need help with your meal? I can cut that meat for you."

"I've told you. It's inedible."

She stared down at the tray and could see how he had come to that conclusion. Why could hospitals never provide patients with a decent meal? Nevertheless, she pressed him, "I doubt that, and you need nourishment in order to heal properly."

The door swung open and Martin walked into the room. She noticed how he stiffened and bit his lip as he walked in, as if he had to brace himself for the encounter with them. After experiencing Christopher's nasty words as she walked in, she suddenly wondered to herself, _"Does he hate us that much? Are we so very awful?"_ It was a thought that had never occurred to her and she banished it immediately. Adult children were duty bound to honour and care for their parents, love had never been a requirement. She nodded her head in his direction, "Martin."

"Mum."

He stepped up to review Christopher's chart, flipping through the pages till he reached the most recent entries. "Looks like you are making some progress with the walker. They will transfer you back to the care home in two days after they remove the surgical drain and your catheter. Of course, your specialist will need to monitor your progress, but you may be able to return to your home in Portugal after a month or two of physical therapy." He turned to his mother, "Assuming that Mum has been able to secure competent nursing assistants for your care."

Margaret raised her hand and patted her hair into place, "I have rearranged our villa, but I was waiting for Ruth to arrive to make the nursing arrangements. We put the search for a home health aide on hold until we knew whether it would be needed."

Martin pursed his lips, annoyed. "Call Ruth and tell her that you will need to find help within the next month or two. Perhaps you can make arrangements from here."

She glared at him under hooded eyes as she responded, holding back the bile that had risen in her throat, "Of course. Are there any other arrangements you wish for us to make?"

"No. Good night." He turned on his heel and left the room, offering no warmhearted or even polite wishes for a pleasant evening. But then, he had never had any manners.


	51. Chapter 51

**Chapter 51**

"This is nice, isn't it?" Margaret smiled at her from across the table as the waitress brought them each a cup of hot tea.

Louisa replied with a noncommittal "mmm". She hadn't been surprised to receive the call from Martin's mother, after learning from Martin that she had returned from Portugal. He had returned home late one evening last week with that news after checking in with his father and seeing his mother. He was always troubled after encounters with his mother, and that evening was no exception. He barely touched his supper, he closed himself up in his study with his latest clock afterwards, and slept restlessly. He left for hospital earlier than usual the next morning, and when he returned home that evening, he confided that he had called Harold, his therapist, to see if he could fit him in. Both his parents opened up old wounds in his soul, but his mother's vitriol seemed especially caustic. The insecurities that woman gave him were resurfacing and he needed an independent advisor to help him navigate the turbulent waters his mother churned up in his psyche with every encounter. All the more reason Louisa thought, to meet this woman, this gorgon who had made his childhood miserable.

Now that Margaret was back in town, Louisa knew it would be a mere matter of time before she would try to contact her. Louisa had put her off when she called before Christmas, but she had no good excuse now for declining her luncheon invitation. She had told both Ruth and Martin that she wanted to meet his parents and this was as good a time as any to meet his mother. But she knew to be careful. Ruth had warned her to be cautious, that Margaret would be sweet and gracious, welcoming even, and that she shouldn't be taken in. And Martin, Martin was barely able to contain his horror at her meeting with his mother, "I know I can't forbid you to meet her, but please be very vigilant. She is manipulative and cunning and she will try to ingratiate herself with you so that we will take care of her in future." She promised him that she would be on her guard.

So here they were, in this lovely little café just a few blocks from her home. She couldn't help noticing that Martin's mother was quite attractive. She must be nearing eighty yet her hair was still full with only a few traces of grey. She should ask her mother if Margaret's colour was natural or not. A skilled colourist could work miracles. And her skin was flawless with only a few wrinkles to indicate how many years she had passed on the planet. Louisa couldn't help but hope that she would age as gracefully. _"I wonder if she has had any work done. You can't always tell."_

"I'm so glad you agreed to meet me for lunch. I hope we can be friends."

There it was, the gauntlet thrown down. Heeding the advice of both her husband and his aunt, she was noncommittal and she nodded, "It is nice to be out of the house on my own for a change."

"I suppose it is, although…" Margaret lowered her eyes demurely before continuing, "I was hoping you would bring the baby. I'd love to see her again."

"Mmm … she is just 12 weeks old, and she usually naps around this time. I don't like to disrupt her schedule. Plus, she is too young to take out for long periods of time."

"I suppose so. Maybe another time?" Margaret's voice was full of hope. "I was only able to see her that once … whilst you were still in hospital."

Louisa gave her a sweet smile and responded ambiguously, "Perhaps it can be arranged some time. We'll see." She turned her attention to the menu, "The last time I was here I had the chicken caesar salad. It was quite good, but I think I'd like something hot today. It's so cold this winter. Maybe a bowl of lentil soup. That sounds delicious. What do you think?"

"Yes. Sounds good. I think I'll have a glass of merlot as well – would you care for a glass of wine?"

Louisa laughed, "I'd love a glass of chardonnay, but I'll have to pass for today."

Margaret pressed her, waving her hand in the air, "Oh go ahead. One glass won't hurt you."

"But it's not good for Joanie. I'm still breastfeeding and alcohol isn't advisable. Thanks anyway."

Margaret raised her eyebrows in surprise, "You're breastfeeding the baby? In my day we used formula. It's much more convenient and it frees you up for other activities."

Louisa screwed up her mouth, "Yes, I suppose it does, but breast milk is much better for the baby. Martin is very supportive, says it's good for the mother as well."

"I suppose he would know … as a doctor," Margaret intoned, with just a tinge of doubt colouring her agreement. Just then the waitress returned and they placed their order.

Louisa took a sip of water and laughed, "One of the benefits of breastfeeding is that it uses up calories … helps to shift that baby weight." She wasn't about to be intimidated by this woman, and an uncomfortable silence settled over the table as she smiled at Margaret across the table.

"Yes, I suppose it does," Margaret finally replied with what Louisa could only describe as a simpering smile. "Still it does tie you down, having to be 'on call', so to speak for the baby's feeds. I don't know how you mothers do it these days."

This was one of the openings she had been waiting for, although she needed to be careful. She didn't want to antagonize the woman right off. "So, I take it that you didn't breastfeed Martin when he was a new-born?"

"Heavens no. It just wasn't done in our day. It was felt … back then you understand … that it was easier for the mother to get her figure back if she didn't have to deal with all the demands of that sort of thing. It was better to turn over care to the nanny, who knew best how to care for a new-born, and get back in society, get involved again with one's volunteer work, charities, that sort of thing. You _do_ have a nanny, don't you?"

"Yes, she comes in five mornings a week."

"Only in the mornings?"

"Yes, but things were so different when Martin was little. Can you tell me more about him back then?"

"Oh, it was so long ago. It's hard to remember. I suppose he was cute. Aren't all babies cute? I do remember that he was curious, almost from the beginning. I remember he would look around the room when the nanny brought him in to visit with us before dinner; but after a few minutes, he would start to fuss. Christopher couldn't stand to hear him cry, always made the nanny take him away. It was just as well, as we usually had guests arriving for cocktails or dinner. Martin tended to be a fussy baby, always crying or wanting to be held. But as he grew older, he was better behaved when brought in to visit with the adults. He would stand quietly next to his nanny and look around the room, his eyes stopping to examine this or that, only speaking when one of our friends addressed him."

"What about at other times? Did he enjoy playing in the park or with other children?"

"I suppose he did. The nanny took good care of him, but she never said anything about their activities."

Louisa was unable to understand Margaret's attitude and she wanted to push her to elaborate. Did this woman really spend a mere few minutes every day with her child? She wanted to scream, but knew better. Better to stay as objective as possible, "So, you only spent time with him in the evening?"

"Yes, of course. That is what we did in our day, in our social circles. We kept very busy with our social and charitable obligations. There was the hospital auxiliary, fundraising events, that sort of thing. I was heavily involved in the hospital auxiliary when Christopher was working."

She raised her hand to smooth her perfectly coifed hair, "In fact, I was chairwoman for three terms running; you may see my name on the plaque inside the main lobby along with the other chairwomen." Margaret tried to make this last statement sound humble, but it was obvious from the way she smiled that she was quite proud of her position and especially the recognition that came with it. She took a sip of her wine and glanced out the window at the park across the street.

Louisa followed her eyes and commented, 'It certainly is blustery today, so nice to be inside where it's warm."

"Yes," Margaret finished her glass of wine and signalled the waitress for another glass.

'As I said, I was chairwoman of the hospital auxiliary for several terms. It kept me very busy. Plus, there were dinner parties to plan for Christopher's colleagues and hospital benefactors. There just wasn't time to stand around watching the children play. I'm sure you must find it difficult to entertain and care for the children as well."

It was all Louisa could do to contain her fury at Margaret's attitude, but she managed to remain calm and reply with tact. "Actually Margaret, Martin and I do very little entertaining in our home, and never with his hospital colleagues. It is a refuge where Martin can relax and unwind from the demands of his work, a place where we focus on raising our children, spending time with them and with each other. We both love caring for the children."

Louisa could tell by the expression on Margaret's face that she was both surprised and shocked, and Margaret's response confirmed it, "I must admit that I am quite surprised that you don't recognise the importance of maintaining a close relationship with his colleagues and their spouses. It can help smooth over any controversies or rivalries that occasionally arise in hospital.

If she knew her son at all, she would know that Martin despised this kind of false socializing, but Louisa knew that now was not the time to antagonize her "mother-in-law", and she responded in a matter of fact tone, "We do socialise with his colleagues occasionally, at the annual holiday gala and at various fundraisers and benefactor dinners from time to time. Martin doesn't feel the need to do more than what is required, and I respect his decisions on these matters."

Their meal had arrived while Louisa was speaking and Margaret turned her attention to her soup, as did Louisa.

As she savoured the warmth of the soup, Louisa pondered, " _I'm here to learn more about this woman … need to keep her talking_." She had made up a list of questions to ask Margaret earlier that morning, questions that she was hoping would encourage her to talk about herself. It had been fairly easy to encourage Margaret to reveal why she had raised Martin the way she had, although Louisa still was unable to understand her lack of interest in her child. _"That was how it was done in my day. Really?"_ She took a few spoonsful of her soup, "This soup is delicious. I always enjoy a hearty soup in the winter, don't you?"

"Yes, delicious." Margaret responded vaguely as she reached for a roll and a pat of butter.

Louisa took a sip of water and then opened another avenue of conversation, "I hear that Christopher is doing well after his operation. Martin tells me that you should be able to take him back to Portugal within the next month or two."

"That's what we're hoping,"

'I think that's wonderful. I'm sure you will be happy to be back home. Tell me something about your life there in Portugal. Where exactly do you live? How do you pass the time?"

Margaret was pleased that Louisa seemed to be interested in their life. Perhaps she would come visit with them for a day or so after they got settled, and she began to describe their community, painting it in the best of light. The villas were exquisite, the clubhouse and pool, the golf course and tennis courts all perfect for a leisurely lifestyle. She briefly described their circle of friends, the prestigious positions that the men had held before retiring and the accomplishments of her friends.

"It does sound like a very pleasant way to pass your 'golden years'."

"It is pleasant, but we also participate in the community outside our compound. We hold a fundraiser for one of the local children's homes every year, and I'm on the organizing committee. Last year when I chaired the event, we raised more than we had in any previous year. I was quite pleased with the result."

'Yes, I imagine it would be very gratifying."

"It is. But I don't mean to monopolize the conversation. Tell me about your interests, other than the children of course."

"Whilst the children are young, they are, of course, my primary focus. It's important to give them a good start in life, make them feel secure and loved. Other than that, I teach elementary school maths three mornings a week, although I have taken this term off whilst Joanie is so young."

"You really don't feel the need to support Martin in his work?"

Louisa chuckled, "It's not like I have a medical background, but I do make sure he has a loving home to return to each night."

"That's not what I mean. You really should participate in the hospital auxiliary and various fundraising events, that sort of thing. I can't stress enough how important that is. You are much more likely to be aware of various staffing changes, funding initiatives, that sort of thing if you are involved, and you can make sure Martin benefits from whatever changes might occur."

"You _are_ aware, are you not, that Martin is quite accomplished? He doesn't need me to help advance his career." She stared straight at Margaret raising her eyebrows ironically, then she continued, "As I said before, I do accompany him when he meets with benefactors, at dinners or fund-raising events. In fact, I quite enjoy them, but I don't have time to get more involved. And fortunately, he neither expects nor wants me to. Frankly he would much rather I spend all my time caring for the children, but he tolerates my teaching because he knows how much I enjoy it."

They had finished their meal and the waitress returned with their bill which Margaret quickly picked up. She gave it a quick glance and slipped her credit card into the slot, waving for the waitress to take it, and then continued her thought, "Martin doesn't always understand the importance of these niceties. He never had much social intelligence. I strongly encourage you to consider it."

Louisa had had enough. She dropped the pitch of her voice and looked Margaret straight in the eye, "Margaret, I think we need to be honest here. I am completely aware that you and Christopher have been estranged from Martin for years."

"Yes, but …"

Louisa cut her off, "If you knew anything about your son, anything at all, you would know that he abhors the intrigue and backbiting that comes with the "involvement" that you think is so important for his success. He has succeeded in his work because he is brilliant and because he always puts the welfare of his patients first. The hospital administration understands his priorities and have rewarded him appropriately. He doesn't want or need me to be snooping around behind the scenes.'

She rose to leave, "Thank you for lunch. It was delicious."

Margaret rose and tried to stop her, "Oh please just stay a few more minutes."

Louisa looked at her watch, "I can't. The boys will be returning from school soon and I need to tend to Joanie."

"Ah yes, Joanie. When do you think I could see her? Maybe tomorrow?"

"No, not tomorrow. I'll be in touch." Louisa quickly donned her coat and hat and turned toward the door.

"Wait, please, one more thing. I understand you visit your mother in Portugal every winter. She lives near our community. I thought you might want to bring the children over to play in our pool one afternoon whilst you are visiting."

Margaret's offer surprised Louisa, but she was quick to respond, "That's very generous of you, but I will have to check with Martin. And we won't be visiting this year. Joanie is too young for air travel. Perhaps another time."

"Yes, the offer is always open. I hope you will consider it."

"Well … yes." Louisa quickly fled to the door. She had had enough of Margaret Ellingham for one day.

 **Dear Readers, to those of you celebrating, I wish you a pleasant and happy Thanksgiving. Among my many blessings, for which I will be giving thanks, will be my discovery of the show, _Doc Martin_ , which has given all of us such enjoyment. I am so grateful for those who work hard to create and produce this brilliant show. May they continue to be inspired. I will also be giving thanks for this fan fiction community where I have found so many wonderful friends. I wish all of you the best.**


	52. Chapter 52

**Chapter 52**

Margaret sat primly on the side of the dais reserved for herself, Martin and Louisa. Her hands were clasped gently in her lap, her legs held to the side, ankles crossed just as she was taught all those years ago in finishing school. The formal part of Christopher's memorial service was about to begin and the current head of surgery took the podium. "I'd like to welcome all of you here as we commemorate the life of one of our great surgeons, Christopher Ellingham, who served and guided us so well over many years." She heard Martin groan softly and felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. The scowl that he had borne as they greeted their guests hadn't changed; he looked angry, not grief-stricken. She hoped that the others in the room took his groan as a sign of sorrow, not as the expression of disrespect that it most certainly was. She noticed Louisa place her hand on his sleeve and turn her head to face him. She could only hope that Louisa would keep him civil during the ceremony.

"Firstly, I'd like to welcome, Margaret Ellingham, Christopher's devoted wife and now unfortunately, his lovely widow. She herself was instrumental in many of the improvements made during his tenure here at Imperial, and at St. Thomas', working tirelessly with the hospital auxiliary to raise much needed funds and to guide our development as a preeminent medical facility for the city community." Margaret wanted desperately to stand and take a bow as the audience clapped, but she knew that was not appropriate. She had been to several of these memorials before and she knew the protocol; she smiled gently and nodded her head in acknowledgement of the recognition afforded to her own role in Christopher's career. "You have our heartfelt sympathies for the loss of your loving husband." She nodded again and mouthed a whispered "Thank you."

"Next I'd like to recognise Christopher's son, Martin Ellingham, a preeminent surgeon in his own right and current head of vascular here at Imperial. Martin, we are sorry for your loss. I know it has been a difficult journey watching your father struggle against the ravages of his declining health." Martin, still scowling, nodded his acceptance of the recognition.

"And last, but not least I'd like to thank Martin's beautiful and talented wife Louisa who worked tirelessly so that we could gather here today to celebrate the life of her distinguished father-in-law." Louisa also nodded her head and smiled graciously at the recognition, as she reached for Martin's hand.

Margaret turned her head to look at Louisa. Margaret had to acknowledge that she was beautiful; and despite her unfortunate breeding, she did have a refined and stately air about her. No one would guess at her working-class background. Martin was lucky to have found such a wife given his surly nature, and they were right to thank Louisa for her part in planning this memorial service. If it weren't for her, they might not be sitting here today. Martin's plan was to inter his father's remains in the family crypt with a short prayer service graveside, which they had done shortly after his death. Margaret was insistent that they hold a memorial service as well, commensurate with his standing in the medical community. She felt Shepherd Hall at St. Thomas' was the perfect venue with its spectacular views overlooking the Thames. Martin had balked at her plans, arguing that she had no funds available for a simple service, let alone an elaborate memorial service. The two had nearly come to blows when Louisa stepped in to offer a compromise.

Louisa arranged for a short memorial service in one of the reception halls at Imperial followed by a modest reception of wine and canapes in an adjoining room. Margaret had inspected the hall and the refreshments an hour or so before the guests started to arrive. It was spartan compared to what Christopher deserved, but she had come to accept that it was what they could afford. She herself would have selected more comfortable chairs with a more sombre colour scheme, but they served the purpose and were adequate, she supposed. The same could be said for the refreshments. There was nothing special to be had, but the catering was satisfactory and she heard no complaints while the attendees were mingling after the formal part of the service. There was a large crowd in attendance and everyone was very impressed with the arrangements. Of course, they were all professionals and knew formal respect was the order of the day. She was certain they were just being polite.

During the time she had spent in London after Chris had broken his hip, she had hoped to forge a friendship with Louisa. Louisa had accepted Margaret's invitation to meet for lunch shortly after her return from Portugal. It had been an interesting encounter. She and Louisa couldn't be more different. Despite Louisa's education she still retained some of her working-class values, even breastfeeding her children; no woman of proper breeding did that, Margaret was certain. But, Louisa did seem interested in the life she shared with Christopher in Portugal and Margaret felt it was a promising start to a longer term relationship. She even invited Louisa to bring the children over to play in the pool when she visited her mother.

unfortunately Louisa was unable, or unwilling, to recognize the responsibilities that came with being the wife of a department head. Despite Margaret's efforts to encourage her membership in the hospital auxiliary where the real power for a woman lay, Louisa adamantly resisted, insisting that the time she spent raising her children was where her value lay. Margaret tried her best to convince her that a nanny was best suited to raising children, and that Louisa's time could be better spent promoting her husband's career. Louisa was stubborn and not to be swayed. Margaret realised too late that she had pushed her too far when Louisa had become angry and left in a huff.

It took all her wiles over the next two months to establish a more concrete connection with her son's wife. Truth be told, it wasn't a true friendship, more of a mutually respectful acquaintance but they had maintained this diplomatic relationship during the nearly two years she and Christopher had since spent in Portugal. When she tried to visit with Louisa and the children after that first meeting, she was rebuffed; apparently Martin had forbidden his family to have any contact with her whilst she was in town. Eventually, Louisa took one of her telephone calls. She confirmed that Martin had insisted that Margaret was to have no contact with the children and that she felt she must acquiesce to his wishes. When Margaret expressed her dismay at this prohibition, never to experience the joy of seeing her grandchildren, Louisa relented a bit saying she understood and offered to send periodic photos with short notes outlining their accomplishments and developmental milestones.

Margaret still issued invitations to visit when she knew they would be in Portugal visiting with Louisa's mother, but Louisa never accepted them. It was terribly disappointing that she was not able to have the children visit and engage with her friends, but she did have pictures to share, and that was some consolation. She could hold her head high as she passed the photos around in the group of proud grandmothers and bragged about the children's accomplishments.

Her friends understood her difficult relationship with her son and were all in agreement that he was in the wrong. It was beyond understanding, this antipathy Martin held against Christopher and herself. Hadn't they given him every advantage, a good home and the best education? He wouldn't be in his current prestigious position if it weren't for their support. What possible harm could come to the children to spend a short afternoon with her whilst Louisa was visiting her mother? It was baffling. At least her friends were supportive and always complimentary of the children's accomplishments.

Despite his initial anger at the repercussions from his fall and broken hip, Chris soon took his situation as a serious wakeup call to work on the physical therapy required to regain some of his mobility. He never was able to progress to walking unaided despite his efforts. He continued to require the use of a walking frame in moving about the house, and a wheel chair for outside excursions, but after a few months of hard work, his consultants considered his progress sufficient for he and Margaret to move back to their home in Portugal. As his mobility improved, his temperament seemed to improve as well. He became less bitter and more amiable, more like the outgoing personable Christopher she had married. And, Margaret had been right when she had claimed that spending time with his friends, even if he couldn't join them on the golf course, was just what he needed to raise his spirits.

It took the entire three months whilst Chris was in rehabilitation for Ruth to find a health aide that was satisfactory to Margaret. Perhaps Margaret was a little too exacting in her requirements. Ruth certainly seemed to think so, and Margaret admitted to herself that she found Ruth's frustration particularly satisfying. But Ruth needed to understand that this aide would be spending many hours every day in their home, working in their kitchen, helping Christopher in the lavatory and occasionally spending time in their lounge during the evenings when she went out with her friends. It was important that they find the right sort of person. Finally, the agency with whom they were working found someone who seemed perfect, a young man with perfect manners, who spoke fluent English and who had a nursing background. She was hopeful that he would notice any significant changes in Christopher's health before another medical crises occurred.

It worked out well until Chris suffered a massive heart attack two months ago and died within minutes. She was grateful that he didn't linger. She wasn't sure she could have endured another round of hospital and care home visits. Unfortunately, his death meant that she would have to make significant changes in her lifestyle. Martin had convinced his father that she wasn't up to handling their finances and he had given Martin the authority to take care of their financial affairs with the proviso that Chris' banker audit the books every year. Martin had handed over the day to day work to Ruth who had been handling their affairs ever since they returned to Portugal. Martin limited his role to reviewing the books every three months or so. As long as Chris was living and receiving his monthly pension, this arrangement worked out well. But now, Margaret's financial situation would be constrained and she would have to justify any extraneous expense to Ruth's critical eye. She was dreading the inevitable confrontations that would arise. Fortunately, Ruth was away on her honeymoon and wouldn't be back for another three weeks. Margaret still had time to enjoy herself; and with her improved relationship with Louisa, she hoped to secure additional financial support from Martin.

The last of the speakers finished his accolades and Louisa stood to invite the guests to enjoy the refreshments in the next room. Margaret rose and almost immediately, old friends and acquaintances joined her to offer their condolences. She was overwhelmed with gratitude, basking in all the attention. Louisa came over to where she was standing, encouraging them to make their way to the next room where tables had been set up for them to relax and reminisce. They had also set up several tables with old photos of Chris at various stages in his life along with certificates noting his accomplishments over the course of his career.

Immediately, Martin had recused himself to the lavatory in an effort to escape the many who wished to speak to him of his father's work, but he returned after ten minutes or so to stand quietly in a back corner, glowering at his mother and grimacing whenever someone headed his way. Nevertheless, many of those in attendance found him and offered him their condolences. Margaret noticed that he generally replied with a blunt 'Right' or 'Yes' or even the occasional grunt, refusing to engage with those who were hoping he would share a memory or two. When she wasn't supervising the catering crew, Louisa stood by his side chatting convivially with those who wanted to share a memory with Martin, a story of his father's exploits in theatre or his antics outside of it. She held on to his hand tightly, admirably performing her role as the consoling wife. Margaret knew that she was actually preventing him from escaping. Why couldn't he act graciously even if he felt otherwise; it was a question of good manners, after all, and good manners cost so little. Martin's incivility was the only thing that marred an otherwise delightful day.


	53. Chapter 53

**Chapter 53**

As is often the case at funerals or memorial services, the attendees used the time, not just to remember the departed, but also to reconnect with old friends, and the room had taken on a festive air for several hours, but eventually the guests started to clear the room, making their farewells to Margaret, Louisa and Martin. Many were headed to late rounds, but some had agreed to meet at a local pub and were strolling down the hall laughing and joking as they made their way. It had been a successful affair, Margaret commented to Louisa as she slipped out with the last of their guests to find the ladies room. The catering staff had started clearing the tables a few minutes earlier and they were packing the leftover canapés to be sent to a local soup kitchen. Louisa gathered up the extra programs and the mementoes that had been placed on the tables near the entry and packed them carefully into a box and called Morwenna to let her know it was ready to go to Martin's office where she would ship it back to the Ellingham villa in Portugal tomorrow.

As Louisa conferred with the catering supervisor, going over the bill, she noticed Margaret confronting Martin in a corner near the windows. It was clear from his body language that Martin wanted to escape; his body was inclined away from Margaret and his hands were balled against his side with his fingers twitching, a mannerism that Louisa had learned early on meant that he was agitated and was trying to determine the appropriate course of action. Even as he leaned further away, stepping back from Margaret, she pressed in closer, intent on whatever it was she was saying. By the time Louisa had finished with the caterer, both Martin and Margaret were speaking in a tone loud enough to attract the attention of the staff and anyone passing in the outer corridor. She could hear bits and pieces, Margaret insisting, "It is your obligation …." And Martin's reply, "… if I ever had any … ceased long ago." Whatever the subject was, this was not the place to discuss it and Louisa hurried over to put a stop to it, reminding Martin that they needed to go home and relieve their nanny. "I'm sure you understand," she added to Margaret with a forced smile as she pulled Martin toward the door, not waiting for Margaret to reply.

The short taxi ride home was quiet, neither one wanting to discuss the scene with his mother with the cabbie close at hand. Louisa had given Martin a questioning look as they entered the cab and he had responded with an eyeroll and a whispered "later." She merely nodded her head in response as he gave the driver their address and then leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. She reached for his hand and held it softly in hers, rubbing his palm gently with her fingers.

As soon as the cab stopped in front of their home, Louisa slid out and traipsed up the stairs, anxious to be home. She unlocked the front door and walked into the foyer of their home, where she immediately shucked off her shoes, tossing them into a corner. She laid her purse and her copy of the memorial service program on the hall table, and turned to face Martin who had followed close behind her. He closed the door, and picked up her shoes, carrying them to the stairs to take up to their bedroom closet later. He helped Louisa with her coat and grabbed her purse, hanging both of them in their respective places in the hall cupboard. He then leaned behind her and snatched the program off the table and stepped into the kitchen to shove it into the bin. She grimaced as she followed his movements with her eyes; he was always picking up after her, something she found annoying at the best of times. When he was particularly frustrated with her, he would mutter under his breath that old adage, ' _a place for everything and everything in its place_ '. Their contrasting attitudes toward clutter was one of the constant thorns in their marriage, a conflict which they had never fully resolved. But this time, he was right, at least as far as leaving the program out where the children, especially James, might see it and have questions.

She sighed. It had been an exhausting day and she was grateful to be home where she and Martin could relax with a quiet family dinner. He joined her back in the hallway, looking even more shattered than she felt. She turned and put her arms around him, "It's good to be home."

He returned the hug, "Yes."

"How are you doing?"

"I'm fine." He pulled away and raised his eyebrow, "Glad it's over."

"Me too."

Their peaceful moment was soon burst by the noisy entrance of their children, ushered in by their current nanny Laurie, who had stayed the afternoon to care for the Ellingham offspring. She was carrying Joanie who reached out to her father with a big grin, "Daddy". Martin took his youngest from Laurie while Louisa asked about their afternoon.

Laurie looked at each of the children, one by one as she answered their mother, "We had a good afternoon, didn't we? Joanie had a good nap whilst you were gone. James and Robert worked on their lessons right after they arrived home from school, and then we went to the park. It was a little wet, but the boys found some friends to play ball with and Joanie played on the new equipment they just installed for toddlers. I think she had a good time, didn't you Joanie?" She tugged on Joanie's toes, making the little girl laugh.

"Thank you so much Laurie. We'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Yes Mrs. Ellingham, tomorrow morning, nine sharp."

She headed out the door and Louisa turned to Martin, "Guess we'd better get supper on the table. I made one of Joan's casseroles. Just need to pop it in the oven for a few minutes. James would you set the table whilst I pull out the vegetables I prepared earlier and pour the drinks."

Martin put Joanie down, who protested crying "Up Daddy, up."

He leaned down and stroked her cheek, "I'm just going upstairs to wash my hands. I'll be right back to help Mummy with dinner." He glanced over to Louisa to make sure she understood.

She held out her hand for Joanie and responded, "Yeah, right. Come on Joanie, you can help James with the table."

As Martin trotted up the stairs, Louisa turned her attention to the children and dinner preparation and soon all were seated at the table. Fortunately, the boys had lots to share from their day. Robert in particular wanted to discuss the astronomy lesson introduced to his class that day, a lesson about the solar system. They were going to make a model of the solar system with papier-mâché to hang in their classroom, and he had all sorts of information as well as questions about the differences in the planets. James remembered doing the same project when he was in Reception, and he was eager to share his knowledge. He suggested that he help Robert build his own solar system model at home. Martin and Louisa were happy to let the boys monopolise the conversation, a pleasant distraction preventing any reflection on the events from their own afternoon. Even so, they did have to temper the boys' enthusiasm every now and then to remind them to finish their supper before they went off to do some research for their project on their mother's tablet.

Later that evening after the children were all in bed, Martin and Louisa took their tea into the lounge and recalled the day. "I think the memorial went well, don't you?"

"A complete farce." Martin grumbled.

"Oh dear. I know it was a trial, but you held up well. Your mother was pleased with the turnout."

"Gawd. Simpering and fawning. It was disgusting."

"Martin." She was using her schoolteacher's voice now. "I understand your reluctance to honour your father, and you have good reason. We won't go into that now. But he was a respected surgeon and he deserved to have a proper send-off. We gave him that."

"Humph."

"And your mother deserved some recognition for the work she did with the auxiliary. Let her have her moment. She won't have another."

"Louisa." Now he was using his stern surgeon's voice, and she expected him to launch into a rant. Instead he stared at her with the forlorn look he had when he was truly disheartened.

"I know, I know." She put her mug down on the table and wrapped her arms around him and held him close. "We will deal with her later. Tonight, let's just be with each other." She looked up and wiped a tear that had slipped down his cheek and then kissed him ever so delicately.

"Yes." He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently back and forth.

Dealing with his mother was going to be a challenge. As it turned out, the confrontation that Martin had with his mother after the guests had left was about money, Margaret making several demands regarding her financial situation. She had already met with Christopher's solicitors and knew the arrangements he had made, such as they were, for her continuing maintenance. She reminded Martin of his responsibility to help her when Christopher's funds ran out. When Louisa stepped in, dragging Martin from the room, Martin had just rebuffed his mother telling her," My obligations to you, if I ever had any, ceased long ago." Of course, they both knew that Margaret's demands wouldn't stop with Martin's blunt refusal. She would continue to pester him whenever she had the chance. It was up to Louisa and Ruth to keep Margaret's expectations realistic. She and Martin would put her off until Ruth returned when, with Ruth's help, they would sell the villa and make the final financial arrangements.

Ruth … Louisa smiled when she thought of Ruth. She was so pleased and happy for Ruth who was on her honeymoon with a wonderful man. Louisa and Martin had met Peter at a holiday gala right after Joanie was born and found him charming. When she told Ruth of their encounter, Ruth was distressed to learn that his wife had recently passed away and she called him when they returned to London. She met up with him over lunch one day shortly thereafter and again over the next year, in London and a few times in Portugal during her visits to help find nursing care for Christopher. They started seeing each other regularly both in London and in Cornwall, where he and his late wife had purchased a small home near their son's primary care practice on the north coast, not far from the Ellingham homestead. This past Christmas, the Ellinghams had hosted Peter and his family one evening, and they were thrilled when he and Ruth announced their engagement. Ruth was glowing; Louisa had never seen her so happy.

They had planned a small family wedding in the late spring, but when Christopher died in March, they discussed postponing the wedding in order to attend the memorial service. Louisa and Martin both convinced them that they should carry-on with their plans, and they were married just three weeks ago and were now on their honeymoon sailing the Mediterranean. They would extend their trip with a week-long tour of gardens in Provence before returning to London and their new home. Ruth and Peter were proof that it was never too late to find love.

Martin and Louisa settled quietly into the sofa pillows, still holding onto each other. Martin had put on some of his favourite classical tunes to play. The pieces he had selected were gentle, calming compositions, surrounding them with a comforting ambiance. She found the music relaxing after a stressful day. One piece she particularly favoured started to play, "Bach?" she asked.

"Yes, Prelude No. 1, very soothing."

"It _is_ beautiful."

"Yes." He had released her and slid his arm around her shoulders and was holding her hand, playing with her fingers.

"This is nice."

"Mmm …"

"Do you have any early procedures tomorrow?"

"No, but I do have rounds at half seven, and then consultations all day starting at ten. I should be home early around five, barring any emergencies."

'Perhaps we could spend an hour with the children in the park when you arrive home?"

"We could. I will let you know how the day goes."

Louisa yawned and snuggled into his side. "It's been a long day. I'm really tired. Are you ready to retire?"

He let go of her hand and reached over to pick up their mugs. "Yes. Why don't you go up? I'll put these in the dishwasher and join you in a minute."

"Okay." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and rose to go upstairs and prepare for bed.

xxxxxxx

The next evening everything was back to normal. They spent a few moments strolling in their neighbourhood park after Martin arrived home with Joanie in her pushchair and the boys playing tag with several of their friends. Dinner was a quiet affair with the boys discussing the facts they had gleaned after school for their planetary project and their parents discussing plans for the weekend. Afterwards, Martin secluded himself in his study to prepare for two challenging procedures scheduled for early the next morning, and Louisa prepared the children for bed and their nightly story-time ritual in which Martin read from one of their many favourite books. After they were in bed, Martin returned to his study and Louisa settled herself in the lounge with a book of her own. After an hour or so, she heard him power down his laptop and store his papers in his bag. She wandered into his study and balanced herself on a corner of his desk. "All ready for tomorrow?"

"Yep."

She drummed her fingers on his desk and looked at him, "I've been thinking."

He looked back at her with a pained expression. It wasn't often that she came into his study and even less often that she perched on the corner of his desk. She had something she wanted to discuss and she could tell he was bracing himself for something serious.

"Yes?"

She had been trying to think of a good way to approach him with her idea, but nothing had readily come to mind. Might as well just be out with it. "I've been thinking. Every February, when we go to visit my mother, Margaret offers to host the children for an afternoon at her community swimming pool. I have always declined her offer and I know she is disappointed."

Martin cleared his throat, "Louisa." His voice was stern.

"I've been thinking that I should take her up on her offer next year."

"No, absolutely not. I do not want her to have any contact with the children."

Louisa stood up and leaned back folding her arms against her chest, "Martin, I think it would be a kindness; she has no one else, and it would only be for two hours at the most … and … and the children would enjoy playing in the pool."

"Louisa, you don't know her well. You have no idea the damage she could inflict on the children." He drummed his own fingers on the desk nervously.

"I would be with them the entire time and would _assiduously_ supervise her interaction with the children, _assiduously._ If she were to say or do anything that could possibly upset them, I would leave immediately and refuse her future requests."

He unfolded himself from his chair and stood, staring down at her and balling his fists at his side, "Even so, I would really prefer you refrain from exposing her to the children."

"She always asks after the children. I think she is really interested in getting to know them."

"Don't be fooled Louisa. Showing interest in the children is undoubtedly her way of ingratiating herself with you, getting you on her side to convince me to help her with money. The only person she cares about is herself."

Martin's assertion shocked her and she glanced down at the floor in thought. She had felt that Margaret's interest in the children was sincere. It hadn't occurred to her that Margaret might be manipulating her in such a way, and she needed time to reflect on her relationship with Martin's mother.

She lifted her face toward his, and they stood facing each other for a short minute before Louisa reached out and took his hands in hers, searching his eyes with her own, "I do understand and I will seriously consider your concerns. I will be very careful when I interact with her. Next February is still almost a year away. A lot can happen between now and then."

"Yes, it can."

"Ruth will be back soon and will help Margaret sell the villa and find new accommodations. She may not even stay in the same compound."

"Possibly."

"Yes, well." She shrugged her shoulders and screwed up her mouth, then gave him a gentle kiss. Who knew what the next year would bring? They could cross that bridge when it came. She turned to leave the room, and then pivoted back towards him "I'm going to make some tea. Would you like some?"

"Of course. I'll help."

She gave him one of her brilliant smiles that he loved so much and turned to go to the kitchen. He followed close behind, his hand resting lightly on her waist. "I think I will put on some music. We could dance a bit before going up … if you'd like."

She turned and grinned with a knowing look, a twinkle in her eye, "Oh yes. That would be fun."

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and he turned toward the lounge to select some suitable dance music.


	54. Chapter 54

**Chapter 54**

"Look at _this_ shell Graunty." Joanie held up a white shell that was almost translucent. "It's so pretty."

Ruth bent over and took the shell from her five-year old great niece, examined it and then returned it to the little girl, "Yes, it is. You should definitely put it in your bucket."

It was mid-term break; Louisa and the children were in Portugal visiting her mother as they always did each February. Miriam rarely took time off from work whilst they were visiting; it was bad for business to close up her shop; and Louisa was always looking for ways to keep the children busy. The weather had turned particularly warm this week and she had arranged with Ruth to take the children to the small sheltered beach that bordered the gated community where Ruth and her husband Peter hired a small flat for January through March each year since their marriage. Peter had close friends, Morgan and Sylvia Stern, who lived there year-round and he and Ruth enjoyed socializing with them as well as enjoying the warmer weather.

Louisa was with the boys at the opposite end of the beach where they were playing with their bodyboards trying to ride the gentle waves that rolled onto the beach. Joanie had been content to splash at the water's edge until she had noticed Ruth pick up an orange tinted cockle shell. When she and Joanie found another one, she suggested that Joanie get her bucket and that they search together for shells to take back home with them to remember their holiday. Ruth herself had put several nice specimens in the pocket of her cardigan and followed Joanie to their encampment under the trees to collect two buckets, one for Joanie and one for herself.

Buckets in hand, they were companionably searching for shells on the beach. Joanie would squat down as she reached for a shell, her light brown hair with the golden highlights tumbling in soft curls over her shoulders, and she would look up at Ruth with a serious expression as she explained why each shell she found was perfect. It was funny how different the three children were. Both boys still were quite blond with their father's green eyes and full facial features. Joanie's eyes had stayed a deep blue and her features were more refined, more like her mother's. Ruth loved the little girl more than she would ever admit, had felt that way from the very first time she had seen her in hospital right after her birth. Searching for shells was a delightful way to pass the time with her great-niece and she couldn't be happier. She loved the boys just as much and she often wondered how her life would have evolved had she not rebuffed Izzy and married him. Would they have had children? She never thought of herself as the motherly type, but she cherished her time with Martin's children. She shook the thought out of her head. It was no use wondering "what if"; she had chosen her path many years ago, and it was rewarding in its own way. And now, she had Martin's children as well as Peter's grandchildren to enjoy. She stared out to sea and thought about Peter and the twists and turns life had taken since Joanie's birth over five years ago.

 _Louisa and Martin had run into Peter at the hospital holiday party right after Joanie's birth and in the course of conversation, had discovered that he and Ruth were friends. She had lost touch with him and his wife Margery after they had all retired, and Ruth was saddened to learn of her death. Margery was a lovely woman and an excellent clinician. Shortly after their return from their Cornwall holiday, she called Peter to express her condolences, and they had met up for lunch to reconnect and reminisce. He was leaving a few days after their lunch to visit some old friends in Portugal for several months, and they agreed to meet again upon his return. Morgan and Sylvia had a large villa in the same community where Margaret and Christopher had their villa, and they made it clear that he was always welcome to spend time with them in their home. He had spent a good month visiting with them and then had spent another month or two travelling across southern Portugal and Spain. He had returned just before Ruth arrived to arrange for Christopher's home care when it appeared that he would recover sufficiently from his broken hip to return to Portugal. They ran into each other one evening whilst each was out taking a walk. Peter was delighted to see her, and Ruth was equally pleased to have a friend in the community. She had quite a bit of free time between interviews with caregivers and physical therapists, and Peter was there to fill that time showing her the area sights and accompanying her to dinner and to occasional evenings with his friends._

 _After they both returned to London that summer, they continued their friendship. It grew into love over the next year or so, and he proposed two years later whilst they were in Cornwall celebrating the holidays. They married in early May the following year, and took an extended honeymoon touring the Greek isles. It was a wonderful time. Ruth had never expected to find love and marry at her age and she was looking forward to making a life with Peter for whatever time the fates were willing to give them._

 _After his wife's death Peter spent more and more time in the house he and Margery had purchased near their son's home in Cornwall. He had sold the family home in London and took a small flat in Kensington, a pied_ _à_ _terre, for those times when he needed to be in London for his occasional work, but after he and Ruth had reconnected, he found himself spending more and more time there. Ruth had lived in her London flat for years and it was perfect when it was just her, but it was much too small for the two of them. Even though each had technically retired just before their wedding, both were still active in their respective professional communities and each needed an office in London where they could organize their papers, attend seminars, and write the occasional article. They pooled their assets and found the perfect town home, with plenty of room for their collective papers as well as frequent guests, who were likely as not to be children, grandchildren, or great-nephews or nieces. In addition, it was not too far from Martin and Louisa's London home. When she finally settled Margaret into a small flat in Portugal, Ruth was able to work on transforming their house into a home. It had taken over a year to do the few renovations that were required and to sort through their collective furnishings, but now it felt like home._

 _Christopher died just before they were to be married. Perhaps the politic thing would have been to postpone the wedding and honeymoon and stay for the memorial service. Ruth considered doing just that, but in the end, at the urging of both Martin and Louisa, they kept to their original plans, sending flowers for the service._ _Based on Martin's scathing summary of the proceedings, the memorial service was farcical. Louisa was more tactful in her assessment. Martin had arranged the interment of his father's remains in the family crypt with a short prayer service graveside. It was a short but respectful service with just the minister and the five of them attending, but Margaret was insistent on holding a memorial service commensurate with Christopher's standing in the medical community. She and Martin had nearly come to blows when Louisa stepped in to offer a compromise. They held a short memorial service in one of the larger meeting rooms at the hospital with a modest reception of wine and canapes after. Several of Christopher's contemporaries were invited to speak of his achievements. Louisa said that they all acknowledged Margaret's contributions to his success as well._

 _Louisa told Ruth that Martin was barely able to hide his distain as each speaker mentioned his mother, curling his lip and staring down at his shoes. He finally had to leave the room as he watched Margaret preening under the attention of each of Christopher's friends and colleagues who approached her offering their condolences. "It was disgusting the way she was behaving. The whole affair reeked of pretentious pomposity," was all Martin had to say on the matter when he was telling her about it after Ruth and Peter's return to London. Louisa confirmed that it was a "bit over the top."_

 _Later Margaret complained to her about the shabbiness of the entire event, and chastised Ruth bitterly for missing the function. "Your absence was an embarrassment that I had to explain constantly to those who knew Christopher well." Ruth recalled Margaret's hauteur as she sniffed, her nose tilted upward as she grimaced, "The entire affair was pathetic. You would have been humiliated, as was I, at the tawdry facilities and catering. Your brother deserved a much more dignified commemoration."_

 _It was just the first of many complaints that she had to endure working with Margaret to help her manage her affairs. She had been handling her brother's affairs for Martin since he and Margaret returned to Portugal after his stroke, and she promised Martin that she would continue to handle his mother's finances after his father died. That meant selling the villa and finding affordable housing for Margaret. She was happy to help, but it meant that she had to postpone work on her own home._

 _Working with Margaret was always challenging. She and Margaret frequently butted heads as she assisted Margaret in putting the villa on the market and finding a small flat to purchase in the same community. At least she had Peter to come home to after her days with Margaret_. _She and Peter had found a small flat to let in the same compound as Margaret's villa whilst she was assisting Margaret. It was close enough to keep an eye on Margaret, but in a different section so that they could maintain their privacy. Whenever things became too heated between the two women, Peter would step in and mediate a solution. Margaret would listen to him when she wouldn't listen to Ruth. It was annoying how Margaret acted as if she had a proprietary hold on Peter, that if it weren't for Ruth, he might have married her. She was just too sweet and compliant when she was with Peter, always touching him on the arm or patting his cardigan as she requested his help when she thought Ruth was being unreasonable. Ruth wasn't sure if Margaret was actually trying to seduce Peter or if she was merely trying to perturb Ruth._

 _If she hadn't been confident of Peter's commitment to her and his distaste for Margaret, Ruth might have been concerned about Margaret's blatant flirting with him. No, she knew Peter was a good and honourable man who was devoted to her. Why did she let Margaret get under her skin that way?_ _It didn't help her peace of mind that he refused to rebuff her advances totally. Peter had confirmed that he had initially found Margaret charming and had been flattered by her attentions, but he had lost interest as soon as he reconnected with Ruth. He assured Ruth that he had since learned of Margaret's true character and was relieved to have escaped her tentacles. Nonetheless, he did take Margaret's side occasionally, which was irksome. When he did, he made sure to reassure Ruth that he couldn't be less interested in Margaret, and he pointed out that a little flirting on his part improved the outcome for all of them._

Ruth was startled out of her reverie by a gentle tug on her skirt. "Graunty, are you going to look for more shells?"

She gazed down at the little girl and smiled, "Of course. I was just thinking how nice it is today here on the beach."

They continued their stroll, when Ruth spotted something special. "Look at this shell Joanie – it has so many colours on it." Ruth leaned down to rinse the shell in the water and placed it in her palm to show Joanie.

"Ooo … can I have it, Graunty?" Joanie leaned over to gently lift it from Ruth's hand and peer at it closely.

"Of course, you _may_ have it." Ruth replied, emphasizing the word _may_. "I'm getting hungry. Why don't we go find a snack in your mother's bag?"

"Okay. Can I have a juice box? I'm thirsty."

" _May_ I have a juice box?" Ruth corrected her niece once again, lifting her eyebrows to indicate that Joanie should repeat the request.

"May I have a juice box, Graunty?"

"Yes, you may." They had just reached the beach chairs that the attendants had set up for them, and Ruth reached into their hamper and pulled out the blanket for the children to sit on. As she opened the box of apple juice for Joanie, she waved her arm to attract Louisa's attention, and addressed Joanie at the same time. "Would you like a biscuit as well?"

Joanie gave her a big grin, "Yes, yes."

Louisa managed to entice the boys out of the ocean whilst Ruth laid out their lunch.

Despite the warmth of the day, the three of them were wearing wet suits because the water was cold. Handing each of the boys a towel, Louisa grabbed one for herself and instructed them to dry off and wrap up in their towels, then ordered the boys to sit down and gave them each a sandwich and a juice box to drink. She pulled out a sandwich for her daughter and then noticed that Joanie was busy munching on something, "Joanie, what are you eating?"

"I gave her a biscuit. I'm sure it hasn't ruined her appetite." Ruth interjected. Louisa shook her head and looked at her sceptically, "You're spoiling her Ruth."

"What are great-aunts for, may I ask? Besides, a little sweet never hurt anyone, despite what my nephew may claim." Ruth responded. "Here Joanie, have the sandwich mummy brought for you."

Louisa and Ruth both took a seat in the beach chairs and set out sandwiches and some water for themselves on the table between them. "It's such a lovely day." Louisa gushed. "We have had a great time playing in the waves, haven't we boys?"

"Did you see us, Graunty?" James gestured toward the sea. "We got some really good rides. This is the best beach ever."

"I did see you a few times. It looked like you were having a lot of fun."

"I rode all the way in on my board, Graunty. You should come in with us. We could help you." Robert was anxious to share his experience.

Ruth smiled at him indulgently, "That is very nice of you to offer Robert, but I didn't bring my swimming costume. Besides I'm having fun playing with Joanie." Turning to her niece, "Joanie – show Robert and James the shells you collected."

"Okay" Joanie crawled over to the edge of the blanket where she and Ruth had stored their buckets, grabbed hers and dumped her shells along with the accompanying sand onto the blanket and proudly showed off her collection.

"Well that's not going to be too much fun to clean up later," Louisa grimaced, observing all the sand covering the blanket she had borrowed from Miriam.

"Don't worry about it, we can shake most of it off before you leave today."

"Right", Louisa replied with little confidence.

Ruth leaned over and rummaged in her own bag and pulled out a large package of crisps. She opened the package and shunted a few onto her plate next to her sandwich, grabbing one to munch before offering some to Louisa, "Ummm, just what we need to make the picnic perfect. Want some?"

"Empty calories. Martin would be horrified to know you brought them to our picnic." Louisa laughed as she dumped a few onto her own plate.

Ruth grinned back at her. "Yes, and we won't tell him, will we?"

The children weren't blind and they swarmed over to their mother begging for some crisps, a treat to which they were rarely allowed to indulge. She laughed as she put several chips on each of their plates. "This is a special treat from Graunty. Eat them slowly because there aren't any more."

Her caution was ignored by the two boys who scarfed them down and begged their little sister to share hers. She wasn't to be duped and she carefully guarded her chips as she slowly savoured them.

They continued to enjoy their picnic when Ruth asked, "What are your plans for the rest of the week?

"Tomorrow is our afternoon with Margaret. We always spend a few hours with her at the pool so the children can play."

Ruth raised her eyebrows, and Louisa replied, "Yes, I know."

Ruth debated whether to go on, but added, "I'm surprised that Martin allows her anywhere near the children."

"Nooo …." Louisa stopped for a moment and noticed that the children had finished their meal and were listening to the adult conversation. She shot Ruth a look that implied that now was not the time to discuss Martin and his mother, and she turned her attention back to her children. "Are you finished with your lunch? Joanie, why don't you show James and Robert how to look for shells."

"Can't we go back in the water and play some more?"

"Not yet, James. You need to let your food settle for a few minutes. And Joanie is too little to play in the waves; she needs to learn to swim better. You can go splash at the water's edge whilst Graunty and I finish our lunch."

James sighed with a slump of his shoulders, then stood up, "Alright, C'mon Robert, let's go see who can make the biggest splash."

"Wait. We need to reapply the sunscreen to your face and neck. You don't want to get a sun burn."

"Mum!" James replied with exasperation. "We put sunscreen on when we got here."

"Yes, we did, and it washed off in the ocean. Now come here."

Louisa quickly reapplied the sunscreen to the children's exposed skin and sent them off to play. "Don't go past the water's edge. I don't want to have to come out and rescue you if a wave knocks you over."

"Mum, they're not that big." James countered.

"Not for you, maybe, but they are for Joanie and you know that she always wants to do what you and Robert do. Plus the water is cold and she doesn't have a wet suit. I'll be down to play with you in a few minutes."

Ruth watched her nephew's wife interact with her children, the easy way she guided them to be their best. Of course, she was a teacher with lots of experience disciplining children. Maybe that was it. When the children finally reached the water's edge, she turned to Louisa, "As I was saying, I'm surprised that Martin lets you and the children spend any time with Margaret."

"No. Sorry I had to cut you off a moment ago, but the children are very observant, James in particular. He's overheard us talking when we think he isn't near. Last year when we were preparing to come visit my mum, he asked me point blank if Margaret was Martin's mum. What could I say? I couldn't deny it when I'm always telling the children how important it is to be truthful. I told him that yes, she was. He looked very thoughtful and then he asked why Martin doesn't ever visit her."

"Oh dear, that is troubling. What did you tell him?"

"Just that it's complicated, that Daddy's parents didn't want him around and sent him away when he was little, and that Daddy is still sad about that. But I think James knows more than he admits. It's inevitable, but how do you tell a child that his father was abused and neglected as a child. And by the woman who has become his friend? I think he is still too young to understand."

Ruth leaned over, "Louisa, I think it may be time to have that discussion. He may understand more than you think. I'm sure James has friends who are experiencing difficult childhoods. Check with Martin and see how he feels about it."

"I can't imagine him discussing it with James. He rarely speaks of it to me, and when he does, I can tell that the memories are still painfully raw, despite all the time he's spent in therapy. He'd just like to forget about it all. Perhaps he should discuss with Harold how to respond to these sorts of questions with the children. How much of those memories should he share?"

Louisa picked up her water bottle to take a drink. "Back to your original question, Martin isn't happy about the few hours we do spend with Margaret, but I think it's a good way for me to keep tabs on how she's doing. I know he worries that she will reappear in our lives and he will be forced to have contact with her again."

Ruth shook her head, "That horrible woman. The damage she did to that little boy all those years ago, and the damage she is capable of inflicting on him still. She's a monster."

Louisa sighed and reached for Ruth's hand, "You do know how very grateful we are for all you've done since she reappeared. I don't know if we can ever repay you for all your help."

"And I am happy to help. Especially now that things are settled. It wasn't easy at first, but she has more or less accepted that she can't be extravagant anymore. Of course, many of her friends have experienced the same problems. That helps."

"Good. Martin and I have the same discussion every year before our trip over here. He is truly afraid she will say something despicable to one of the children, something that will distress them. From what I have learned, she was terrible to him as a child, constantly criticizing him and making him feel so small. Even now, she belittles him. It seems as though nothing he does is ever quite right."

"She's said the same kind of things to me as well."

"I don't understand why she is so critical. I shut her down as soon as she starts in on his failure to advance his career, work the system. According to her, he should be head of surgery by now, not just head of vascular. He is such a disappointment. And she never fails to point out that much of it is my fault for refusing to cosy up to the hospital decision makers. Can you believe the gall of the woman?"

"Status and money. Those were always the two most important drivers in her life."

"Every year, she brings it up. We will be sitting there quietly watching the children and she will say … 'Louisa, it's a shame that Martin hasn't advanced further in his career. You could help.' Last year I'd had enough and said that I thought he'd done quite well without the kind of help she was suggesting, and why, oh why, I asked, why does she always have to criticize him?"

"Did she give you an answer?"

"Not really. She said that he will always disappoint, and I told her that after more than 12 years of marriage and three children he hadn't disappointed me yet. And she said, 'Ultimately he will.' I gave up after that, just gathered up the children and headed back to my mother's."

Ruth leaned back in her chair and took a sip of the cooling drink the beach staff had brought her. "Good for you Louisa, don't let her get away with that kind of talk."

Louisa threw up her hands and huffed, "She even criticizes his suits and ties!"

Ruth had to chuckle, then Louisa leaned over conspiratorially and added, "And you and I both know he is the most elegantly dressed consultant in hospital."

She flopped back into her chair and smiled, "I still remember the first time we went out. I couldn't believe I was having dinner with such a distinguished man." She sighed, turning all dreamy-eyed, "He was so handsome. I think that's when I fell for him, right from the start."

Ruth smiled to herself at Louisa's continuing infatuation with her nephew. He was lucky to have found her, that was certain, and she chuckled, "You sound like a love sick schoolgirl."

Louisa sat back up and laughed out loud, "Well, maybe I am. You know, there are some mornings when I watch him leave for hospital and feel that same thrill as the very first time I saw him. He is just so …. I don't know … so special, and you do have to admit he is very attractive."

"I suppose he is." Ruth smiled at her indulgently, "You two do seem to be happy."

"Yes, we are. But I digress. Margaret … the children. He insists that I never leave any of the children alone with her, even for a few seconds. I keep a close eye on her interactions, but she seems to be quite generous and complimentary with them. She does have strong opinions on etiquette, always referring to what "one does" or "doesn't do". But if one of the children violates one of her "rules", she corrects them gently. She isn't openly critical."

"Perhaps she knows she must be on her best behaviour. I've heard from others how she brags about her grandchildren, how handsome and accomplished they are. She's 'keeping up with the Joneses' you know."

"What?" Louisa didn't understand.

"All her friends have grandchildren. It's the thing to do, and of course, hers are the best."

"Of course," Louisa nodded her head. "That explains why she always insists on having a photo taken with the children before we go to the pool, before they look like water rats. And it also explains why her friends drop by for a chat whilst we are at the pool. Sometimes it does feel a bit like "show and tell". But I can't really deny her that pleasure. She doesn't have many pleasures left now that Christopher is gone and her circumstances have changed."

"You are too kind. The woman is still as manipulative as ever." Ruth leaned forward in her chair and pointed her finger at Louisa, "and she manipulates you as well, whether you want to recognise it for what it is or not. Like I said, she has to be on her best behaviour when you are with her. If you were to report back to Martin that she had been unkind to one of the children, even the slightest cross word, she knows … believe me she knows … he would pull the plug on the yearly visits faster than she could snap her fingers.

"She plays the poor downtrodden widow with the estranged son to its full effect with her friends, but she has plenty of pleasures left if my observations are correct. You know that Morgan's wife Sylvia is one of her best friends. Sylvia tells tales that you wouldn't believe. This colony is Margaret's world and she is completely engaged in running it. Nobody crosses Margaret Ellingham without consequences."

"Wow. Really? She has that kind of influence? I would never have guessed it from her behaviour when we visit. She is always so cordial and welcoming, a typical doting grandmother." Louisa screwed up her mouth, "I suppose I should be more observant myself."

"Yes, you should or she will lure you into promising something you can't deliver. Be very careful with that one."

"Mmm … I will," Louisa started to gather up the remains of their lunch and pack it away in her cooler. "We should leave in a half-hour or so. Shall I go supervise the boys until then? Don't want them washing out to sea."

"Yes, and I'll tend to Joanie."

Louisa turned around and smiling, shook her finger at Ruth, "Good, but no more biscuits."

Ruth didn't reply to that directive, but shook her head and gave Louisa one of her crooked smiles.

 **Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah and Happy Holidays. I wish all of you the best the season has to offer …. K**


	55. Chapter 55

**Chapter 55**

Margaret bustled about her flat, preparing for the children's visit. She wanted everything to be perfect. They only visited once a year whilst they were in Portugal visiting with Louisa's mother Miriam, and only for a few hours in the afternoon to use the swimming pool next to the community clubhouse. It was conveniently located just a short walk from her apartment in the compound where she and Christopher had lived for years. The children would swim under Louisa's watchful eye while she and Louisa exchanged pleasantries and Louisa updated her on the children's accomplishments. Afterwards, they would share an early tea in her home on the balcony. It was all very festive and kept them a part of her life, and just as importantly it allowed them to know her.

She had to admit that the most gratifying part of these annual visits was the opportunity they offered of showing off her grandchildren. Each of her close friends stopped by to greet Louisa for a few minutes and to admire the children. In her small circle of friends, it was expected that they would drop by whenever the family of one of them were visiting so that they could show off the family. Margaret was pleased that she could now participate in this ritual; and she prided herself that her grandchildren were much more attractive and much better mannered than those of her friends.

Martin had been a complete disappointment both to his father and to her. But she had to admit that his children were all she could have hoped her grandchildren would be. Physically, they were beautiful children, and they were polite and thoughtful and able to engage in relatively intelligent conversation with any adult they encountered. James, in particular, was her favourite, so articulate and impressive, and charming; he always knew what to say to make others feel at ease. He would be 12 in July. He was as tall as herself last year and was likely to be as tall as his mother this year. She was certain that he would be as tall or taller than Martin, and much more handsome.

She remembered the time last year when James asked her why she didn't like his Dad. When she had asked him why he thought that, he replied that he knew she was his mother, and that he had overhead Mum and Graunty talking about why his Daddy wouldn't come to visit her. They said she was mean to him when he was a little boy and it still made him sad. She tried to explain to James that she didn't intend to be mean to his Dad, but that he was a very naughty little boy and that he required a lot of discipline to teach him how to behave. She pointed out how he had become a very successful surgeon, so she must have been right. It made her unhappy that he was sad, but sometimes grown-ups just couldn't get along even if they wanted to. That seemed to satisfy James. She was really looking forward to seeing him.

She never discussed Louisa's unfortunate family background with her friends. She was certain that all her friends knew who Louisa's mother was, but discussing it just wasn't done. They all had skeletons in their closets and such unfortunate connections were becoming more and more common these days. After all, one of Portia's daughters married a Scottish secondary school teacher from a mining family. Now that the mines were closed, his father was reduced to waiting tables in a Glasgow Pub. They all knew, but it wasn't mentioned, nor was Louisa's mother the hairdresser. The younger generation didn't understand the importance of good breeding and the advantages that came with it. They were determined to live their lives outside the strictures of their parents' conventions. It was unfortunate, but there was little they could do to roll back the clock to more genteel times.

Ever since Christopher's death and her move to the small apartment on the second floor of the building near the clubhouse, she had made her peace with Martin's family, if not Martin himself. Her friends thought it shameful that she had not seen or spoken with her son since Christopher's memorial service. He refused to join Louisa and the children on their annual trips to Portugal and Louisa had made it clear that she was not welcome to visit in their London or Cornwall homes. She accepted her friends' commiseration and played the part of the neglected mother with what she felt was just the right balance of wistful melancholy and forbearance. All her friends called her a saint, but in actuality, the estrangement was a relief. He was such an unpleasant and disagreeable man; age had not mellowed him as it did with so many men. How he managed to attract and keep Louisa, despite her unfortunate breeding, was nothing short of miraculous. At least he allowed Louisa to send pictures and news of the children. That was all she really wanted, to be able to brag to her friends. Spending more time with the family would have been a burden she was grateful she didn't have to endure.

She sat down for a moment, taking a break from her preparations and rubbing her temple where it was starting to throb, and she thought back to Christopher's memorial service. Martin had resisted holding such a service, but she had put her foot down, and surprisingly Louisa backed her up. Christopher had been a senior surgeon for years before his retirement and had trained many of the surgeons now leading staff at hospital departments around the country. Unfortunately, the service had not been as elegant as befitted Christopher's status in the medical community. Martin refused to spend the money, but Louisa made satisfactory arrangements and it was sufficiently tasteful in the end, if a bit spartan. Over one hundred of Christopher's friends and colleagues had attended, crowding into the meeting and reception rooms they had booked. Martin should have known there would be a large crowd and booked a larger room, but he had never had any social sense when it came to this sort of thing. Nearly thirty former colleagues wanted to speak, but they had to limit it to just ten. And they all spoke glowingly of his knowledge and skill. And each had also recognised her contribution to his success and most all came up to her during the reception to pay their respects. It was all so enjoyable to have so many remember her and her efforts. It was festive and exhilarating and she relished every moment, despite her embarrassment at the closeness of the room and the paucity of the refreshments. It was heavenly to have that kind of attention at such a difficult time.

After Christopher died, Ruth continued to handle his estate, what little there was of it. Martin had convinced his father that she would not be able to manage the finances, so Christopher handed over the administration of their affairs to Martin with the stipulation that Christopher's banker audit the books annually. As far as she knew, Martin had handed over the day to day administration to Ruth and only checked on Ruth's work once a month or so. It was galling to be dependent on Ruth for every little thing, but even so, she was grateful not to have to take care of the bills and maintenance of the flat.

Ruth had managed the sale of their villa and worked with the estate agents to find the flat where she now lived. She would have preferred a larger flat and, in fact, she had found one that was just perfect. Most of their furniture would fit in the lounge and it had two large bedrooms with ensuite bathrooms. It would have allowed her to continue entertaining, but Ruth was not to be swayed. It was too expensive and Ruth refused to release the funds necessary for that purchase. Once Ruth had convinced the estate agent that Margaret could not exceed her stated price limit, she had found the "cosy apartment" she now called home. "Cosy", yes indeed, estate agent euphemism for cramped. At least it was tastefully furnished with the best of the furniture from their villa.

Whilst she wasn't anxious to remarry, Margaret had hoped to pass her final years in the company of one of the more eligible single men that visited their community on occasion. She had high hopes to snare Peter Symington, Morgan's friend with whom she had passed several pleasant days between Chris' surgery and his subsequent fall and broken hip. She was looking forward to spending much more time with him on their return. He had been very attentive and seemed interested in her as a woman; but, as luck would have it, Ruth had known him before his wife died and they reconnected when she had first come over to help find care for Chris. Margaret continued to encourage his interest after she and Chris returned to Portugal, but, by then, he had redirected his attentions to Ruth. Apparently, they had been colleagues long ago, and what had been a convenient friendship had turned to love. He proposed marriage, and Ruth accepted. It was disgraceful. What could that wizened old spinster know about marriage and keeping a husband happy? It was preposterous.

She was still furious with Ruth and resentful that Ruth had stolen the man she hoped to marry. And on top of that, Ruth also had complete control over her financial resources, giving her a monthly allowance, which permitted very few luxuries. How was it that Ruth had all the advantages that she herself used to have, and that she now had to scrape by in near penury. It was all Christopher's fault for failing to provide her sufficient assets to maintain her lifestyle, thinking only of himself. It was infuriating, but she had learned to cope, just as her mother had when her father had died unexpectedly.

Occasionally she and Ruth had disagreements over her affairs, and Peter would step in and arbitrate their disputes. He was always receptive to her advances, touching her arm or putting his arm around her shoulders when things got tense, comforting her and letting her know how he felt. It was obvious that he regretted his impulsive marriage to Ruth. He needed a real woman, but gentleman that he was, he never acted on their mutual attraction. An affair would have been delicious if he had been more adventuresome; but sadly, it wasn't to be. Nonetheless it was delightful to see how his attentions to herself distressed Ruth.

She had hoped to find someone after Christopher died, and she had thought she had found the perfect man, Victor. He was a retired barrister, still quite attractive and well off, and a delightful companion. They had kept company for several months, dining in the better restaurants and taking in many of the local festivals. They had even taken a road trip to attend the theatre in Lisbon. He was attentive and considerate, and once again she felt alive. Although she didn't love him, she accepted when he had proposed. He had considerable resources and he had even prepared a pre-nuptial agreement setting up a sizable trust fund for her maintenance should they divorce or should he die before her. They were planning the wedding when he fell and broke his hip. When it became obvious that he would never walk again, she broke it off. She had considered going through with the marriage. The promise of financial security was tempting, very tempting, but he could be disagreeable and for once in her life she decided to decline the financial windfall in favour of her freedom despite the constraints Ruth imposed. She had no intention of spending any more years tied down to an invalid, no matter how comfortable the material benefits. There were other fish in the sea and she was still an attractive woman.

She led a quiet life now, spending her mornings much as she did before Christopher's stroke and death … shopping, reading, playing bridge, and afternoon 'tea' with her friends. Several others in their wider circle of friends had lost husbands as well and they banded together to enjoy life to the fullest with their new-found freedom. There were fewer and fewer single men available to women in their demographic, and those that were unattached were looking for someone to act as nursemaid, a price few of them were willing to pay just to have a man in their lives. So, they anointed themselves "the merry widows". What did they care if there were some who considered them a covey of gossiping biddies, old relics nosing their way into everyone's business? Yes, they did enjoy keeping abreast of all the comings and goings of the community, but it was always done in the best of taste. If there were those who liked to call it gossip, well, that was unfortunate, but those same persons were usually the first to give one of them a call when something particularly juicy was suspected. Of course, they never shared anything salacious, they just shared the important life events of those in their community; and they were always invited to the big soirees even though they were no longer involved in the planning.

But today was a special day and she rose from the couch to refocus her efforts in making the visit with the children as memorable as possible. Why she had to come down with such a terrible headache on this one day of the year was beyond her; it was extremely inconvenient, and it seemed to be getting worse. She had felt sluggish the day before, and now she was behind in her preparations, just not up to the remaining tasks. She rubbed her head with her fingertips, but that didn't help. She really needed to take another break. The paracetamols she took when she first awoke weren't helping. Perhaps if she took two more and lay down for just a moment, it would ease.

Before she realized how the time had passed, she heard knocking on her door. "Miss Margaret?" It was James calling out to her.

She tried to get up but couldn't seem to move her legs off the sofa. She shouted out to him, "Come in James."

He didn't open the door, but kept on knocking, "Miss Margaret? Miss Margaret?"

Her thoughts wandered. Why didn't the children call her by some special name? They called Louisa's mother 'Mimi'. She didn't want to be a 'Grandma' or 'Grammy'. The formal 'Grandmother' would have been nice, but noooo…. When she confided her thoughts about a special name, Louisa had quietly discouraged it, "Miss Margaret is how the children know you. I think it would confuse them if we asked them to call you by some other name."

"Come in James." She called out. Or she thought she did. It was odd, her voice didn't sound quite right. After a few minutes, James returned with his mother and the other children and they knocked again. She replied, "Come in."

They knocked again and Louisa called out, "Margaret, it's Louisa and the children. Are you there?"

Once again, she tried to rise and answer the door, but was unable to move. Her leg fell like a stone when she tried to move off the couch and she was unable to lift it back up. It was quite odd. She tried to call out, but her voice was weak, "The door's open. Please come through."

She could hear Louisa and James talking between themselves, and finally she could hear them gently open the door. "Margaret?" Louisa called out.

James walked in towards the kitchen when he saw her lying on the sofa. She could see him walking towards her with a puzzled look on his face, "Miss Margaret? He turned toward his mother and said, "Mum, she's here on the sofa, but I think something is wrong."

Louisa rushed over to her, "Margaret, are you alright?"

Margaret tried to respond, but she couldn't move and she felt herself drifting away. Louisa seemed to be making a call, something about an ambulance.

 **To all my readers: Happy New Year. I wish you all the best in 2020, and may our Doc Martin wishes for a season 10 come true.**


	56. Chapter 56

**Chapter 56**

"Margaret, are you alright?" Louisa hovered over Martin's mother as Margaret looked at her with fright in her eyes. She was trying to tell Louisa something, but she was speaking gibberish.

Louisa sat back on her heels and pulled out her mobile and called for an ambulance. James stood next to Margaret with his hand on her shoulder, "Will she be alright, Mum?"

"I don't know," she replied truthfully. "I think she may have had a stroke, and that can be quite serious."

All three children gazed at her with concern. They may not have understood what a stroke was, but they knew it wasn't good. Robert spoke up. "We need to call Daddy. He could fix her. Daddy can fix almost anybody, right mummy?"

She stood up and sat down in a side chair and pulled him to her. "Daddy can fix most people, but Daddy isn't here. They have good doctors here as well. One of them can probably fix her once she arrives in hospital." She noticed that James had sat down next to Margaret and was holding her hand, looking at her with concern; and she had to wonder, as she frequently did, how the special bond between them came about. She knew that James was Margaret's favorite. Oh, she was kind to the younger children, sending them cards and gifts for Christmas and their birthdays. She loved to send Joanie little dresses and trinkets, but she seemed to dote on James. It was hard to believe that this was the same woman who had left her own son to be raised by nannies and public-school masters, who even as recently as a few years ago, well even now, ridiculed him and his life choices so cold-heartedly.

Soon enough the ambulance arrived, and the attendants strapped Margaret to a gurney and carried her out of her home. Louisa confirmed the hospital's location and hurriedly grabbed Margaret's purse, checking to be certain that her identification cards were in order. After locking the door, she guided the children down to their car and drove off to the hospital.

When they first arrived at hospital, conditions in the emergency department seemed chaotic. It was especially unsettling for the children. There were a number of people sitting in the waiting room with obvious injuries or moaning in pain. And others were milling about, huddled together or pacing the floor whist they waited for the hospital staff to attend their loved ones. The children clung to her as they searched for someone to help them. Finally Louisa found an empty bank of chairs and she settled the children there as best she could and then approached the check-in window. Fortunatley she was sufficiently conversent in Portuguese to ask for information about Margaret and receive confirmation that they would call her when any information was available. Margaret had been taken directly to an examination room and Louisa and the children were not allowed to be with her. Louisa felt that was probably wise; they would undoubtedly be underfoot. Fortunately, they called her within a half hour with a brief status update of Margaret's condition, and the information wasn't good. The attendant told her they were taking her to imaging and suggested that Louisa take the children away from the waiting room, perhaps to the canteen. She gave the attending staff her mobile number and then steered the children down the hall away from emergency.

She ushered the children through the canteen and picked up several sandwiches and drinks, and then she settled them around a table in a corner far away from the entrance where things were slightly hectic. The children were subdued and quietly picked at their food. She knew they were distressed, as was she, but they all needed to eat to keep up their strength. It had been a long upsetting afternoon and was likely to be even longer. She should call Martin and let him know, but not until later, after his workday was completed. She had forgotten all about Ruth in the frenzy surrounding their finding Margaret, but she realized that she should call her. Ruth handled Margaret's affairs and she would need to know about this situation. And she could help with the children until her mother finished her work later in the evening.

But first she must tend to the children. "I know you are worried about Miss Margaret, but you must eat something." Dutifully, they each took a small bite out of their sandwiches, looking at her for approval. "Good, we need to stay strong. Now, I need to call Graunty so she can help us."

She pulled out her mobile and dialled, "Ruth It's Louisa."

"Louisa, what is it. You sound breathless."

"Margaret's had a stroke. We are all at hospital."

Ruth responded immediately, "Tell me exactly which hospital and we'll be there as soon as we can." She could hear Ruth cover the mouthpiece and shout at her husband, "Peter. Margaret's had a stroke. We need to go to hospital and help out Louisa."

Ruth returned to the phone, "Is there anything you need to me to bring, or anything else I can do before we arrive?"

"No, I have the children in the canteen and we are having a bit of tea. They took Margaret to run tests."

"Right. One more thing, Louisa. Have you called Martin?"

"No. He has consultations all afternoon on Wednesdays."

"Call him anyway … right away. He needs to know, so as to arrange his schedule for the next few days to accommodate a trip to Portugal. He has her medical power of attorney and will be the one the doctors and hospital will turn to for decisions regarding her care. I'm sorry Louisa, but he needs to be here."

"Yes, you are right. I wasn't thinking. It's all such a shock."

"Yes dear, I understand. We will be there shortly."

Louisa ended the call and turned to the children who were looking at her expectantly. "Graunty and Uncle Peter will be here soon. I need to call Daddy and tell him to come and then we can talk about what is happening."

She dialled his office number and Morwenna answered, "Morwenna, this is Louisa. Is Martin free at the moment."

"I'm afraid not, Mrs. Ellingham. He is with a patient."

'Yes, I thought he might be. Could you give him a message to call me as soon as he has a free moment? He has my mobile number."

"Right. I'll give him the message as soon as he finishes with this consultation. Is there anything else I should tell him?"

"No. That's all. Thanks, Morwenna." Louisa was certain by the tone in Miss Newcross's voice that she had picked up on her own anxiety.

The children had stopped eating whilst she was on the phone. She could tell that they were very concerned about the situation, and she needed to comfort them and help make sense of what was completely foreign to them.

"Okay. Graunty Ruth and Uncle Peter are coming to help us and I've left a message for Daddy to call so I can tell him as well. Do you want to talk about what is happening?"

"Mum, do _you know_ what is happening?" James was sceptical.

"I have an idea, yes. The emergency doctors confirmed that she had all the signs of a stroke and they told me that they would be taking her up to radiology for scans. The scans will tell them where the damage is in her brain and whether there is a clot, that is, whether something is blocking one of her blood vessels, or if one of her arteries is bleeding." She tried to make it as simple as possible, but it was difficult.

"Why do they need to know that? Can't they just make her better right away? Daddy would know what to do." Robert had total confidence in his father's medical ability.

"Even Daddy would need to know where in her head the problem was before he started to fix her, Robert."

James added, "That's right Robert. If a clot is blocking an artery, that is, if something is stopping the blood from moving, there is some medicine they can give her to make it move again. But if an artery is bleeding, then that medicine would make it worse. They have to know what has happened before they can make her better."

Louisa wondered when it was that James had learned about strokes. But she shouldn't have been surprised; James frequently talked with his Dad about his work and she suspected that James now knew as much about Martin's work as she did, perhaps more. She tried to hide her surprise and nodded, "That's right James. I gave them my mobile number and they told me they would call when she was stabilized."

"Will we be able to go see her then?" James was anxious.

"They may let me, but they made it clear that no children would be allowed in the intensive care unit of the hospital. That is where they will take her after they decide how to treat her. Now I want you to finish your meal."

Louisa took a few sips of the soup she had selected whilst she debated how to organise the remainder of the afternoon. A thousand thoughts tumbled through her mind. Someone needed to stay and confer with the doctors. Perhaps Ruth and Peter could stay in hospital waiting to hear about Margaret's condition whilst Louisa took the children back to her mother's. No, the more she thought about it, the more she realised that sending the children back with Ruth would be best. Then she remembered that Margaret had laid the table for their tea. She should return to the flat and put things away before taking the children back to her mother's. She shook her head trying to clear her mind. Clearing up Margaret's flat could wait until later. How would Martin react to the news of his mother in hospital. They all knew it was inevitable, but would he be concerned for her care, or would he treat it as an inconvenience. It was important that he model good behaviour for the children's sake, no matter how he felt about his mother. And how will they all fit into her mother's small casa once Martin arrives? Maybe they should get a hotel room, or two.

"I think it would be best if Graunty took you children back to her flat. Perhaps she could take you to the pool after all."

"We can't go swimming whilst Miss Margaret is so sick. It would be bad-form." James had a strong sense of right and wrong, and to him, playing in the pool would be inappropriate.

Joanie had been especially quiet the entire afternoon which was completely out of character. Their little girl was a chatterbox, always had something to say about almost anything, but this afternoon's events had overwhelmed her. "I don't like it here. I want to go home."

"I know Joanie. I've called Graunty and she is coming to take you to her flat. Perhaps Peter will play a game with you until it's time to go to Mimi's house in a few hours."

"No, I don't want to go to Mimi's house. I want to go home. I want to see Daddy." She choked back a sob and wiped a few tears off of her cheek.

Louisa sighed. Yes, in his daughter's eyes, Daddy could make any problem go away. His calm quiet presence made her feel safe whenever something out of the ordinary occurred to make her world feel out of sorts. Daddy would make it better. Louisa leaned over the table to her daughter and held her hand, "Come here. Daddy is going to call me in a few minutes and I am going to ask him to come to help. He should be here tomorrow. And we will call Daddy tonight and you can talk with him. We will ask him what we should do about Miss Margaret. Okay?"

Joanie scuttled around the table and settled onto Louisa's lap. "Okay. Daddy can make her all better. Robert says so."

"Maybe …" Louisa didn't want to encourage her children in their belief that Margaret was going to recover. The doctors in the emergency room had not been encouraging. Margaret's condition had deteriorated even during the short ambulance ride to hospital. They promised to do what they could, but they made no promises. "Miss Margaret is very, very sick, and the doctors said she might not get better. We will have to wait and hope for the best."

Louisa hugged her daughter tight, "Don't worry." At just that moment, Ruth and Peter appeared at their table.

"Have you heard anything more?"

"No, we are still waiting."

Peter glanced around the canteen and then said, "Perhaps I should nose around and see what they will tell me."

Louisa replied, "They have my mobile number and said they would ring me when they had something to relay."

Ruth nodded her head in understanding, "Yes, but they have other priorities and may not call you as soon as the results of her scans are available."

Peter added, "Ruth is correct. I have experience in working with emergency personnel, and I've picked up some Portugese in the past several years. They may be more open to speaking with a medical professional than with a lay member of the family. Wait here."

Before Louisa could reply, he headed off to the emergency area. "Is that really a good idea, Ruth? It may just annoy them."

Ruth smiled as she watched her husband make his way toward the exit, "No, Peter is very resourceful, and tactful. Let him work his magic."

Just then Louisa's mobile rang. She looked at the screen and answered, "Martin."

"Louisa." His voice was subdued with a hint of urgency.

She stood up and walked a few steps away from the family, "Your …. Margaret has had a stroke."

"Thank God."

"Martin?"

"I mean, you and the children …?"

She could feel his relief through the phone and heard a thump as he relaxed into his desk chair. She should have left a more detailed message so he wouldn't have worried. "We're fine"

"Good."

"They've taken her to radiology, and we're in the hospital canteen waiting to hear the results of the scans. Peter has gone to see if he can chase them up. Ruth is here with us. She said you will want to come over to supervise her care."

"Yes." His voice was grave, "I have several procedures scheduled for tomorrow morning, which I must perform, but I should be able to leave by noon. I will have Miss Newcross reschedule my consultations for the remainder of the week and book a flight to Faro. I'll call tonight with the details."

Louisa rubbed her forehead with her fingers, then responded "Good. Uh … "

"Yes, was there something else?"

"Yes, could you say something to Joanie. She is very upset and wants you. Maybe you could reassure her that you will be here tomorrow."

'Yes, put her on."

Louisa went back to the table, picked up Joanie and put her on her lap, and then handed her the phone, "Hi Daddy" …. Louisa listened attentively to her daughter's side of the conversation … "It's scary here. Can you come and take us home?" She was so sweet, twisting the hem of her dress anxiously whilst listening attentively. "Yes … Uh huh." Joanie's brow furrowed and she looked just like Martin when he was worried. "Okay. I love you too."

She handed the phone to her mother, "Daddy wants to tell you something."

"Martin?"

"Yes, I told her that I would come stay with you tomorrow afternoon, and I told her that even though hospitals can be very noisy and scary places, she will be safe with you and her brothers. I asked her to be very brave, and to ask you or James or Robert for a hug if she gets scared. And I told her I loved her. Was that useful, do you think?"

Louisa turned away from the table and lowered her voice, "Yes Martin, that appears to have been very useful. She is much calmer now."

Louisa turned back to face the children and Ruth as she closed out her call with Martin, "So we should see you tomorrow, after lunch?"

"Yes. And Louisa, please have Peter or Ruth call me and let me know the name of her attending physician. I'd like to call him later today if possible."

"Okay, I'll pass on the message. Thanks. I love you."

"Mmm … yes. I love you too."


	57. Chapter 57

**Chapter 57**

Martin's plane was due to arrive just before one pm. Louisa knew that it was important that she and Martin leave the airport as soon as he arrived, so she had left Ruth's flat with more than a half-hour to spare. There had been little traffic to slow her trip and she found that she had some time to kill before Martin's plane landed, so she bought a coffee and sat in the arrivals lounge with her book to wait.

When Peter checked with Margaret's doctors earlier that morning, they had confirmed that she could pass at any time. Martin might profess not to care whether he was there for his mother's last few minutes, but Louisa had the feeling that he needed closure. He needed to say farewell even if Margaret were unconscious. Louisa fidgeted restlessly in her seat; and unable to wait patiently, she put her book in her purse, tossed her coffee cup in a nearby bin, and stood to walk up and down the adjacent hallway, glancing at the arrivals board every minute or so. Finally, she saw that his plane had landed, and she walked over to stand just outside the passenger security exit hoping to catch him as he left the gate area. There he was. She could see the top of his head as he strode through the airport, striding past all the other passengers with his determined gait. She stood on the tips of her toes and raised her hand to wave, hoping to catch his attention. He noticed her immediately and pushed his carry-on bag in her direction as she rushed to his side, "I'm so glad you are here."

He slowed his pace and took her hand, steering them to the edge of the crowd, where he stopped and gazed down at her, "Hello Mrs. Ellingham."

She had been fingering her purse nervously when she first saw him but his greeting soothed her anxiety and she smiled up at him warmly, "Hello Mr. Ellingham. I've missed you."

"Yes." He enveloped her in his arms, ignoring the bustling crowds rushing past them. She buried her face in his chest, sighing with relief at his presence. After a few moments, he pulled away and tilted his head. "Any news?"

She shook her head and briefly brushed his cheek, "No, she's still the same. I thought we'd go straight to hospital. The children are with Ruth. Thank god she and Peter are here. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have them here to help. My mother can't cancel her clients without several days' notice."

He nodded his head in understanding, "Yes, very fortunate."

"The car's just out here." They exited the building and, after Louisa stopped to pay for her parking, they walked the short distance to her hire car. She had opted for a small SUV to accommodate the three children and all their luggage, which was fortunate because it was large enough to fit a man Martin's size comfortably. He went immediately to the driver's side of the car and held out his hand snapping his fingers, "Keys?"

She followed him, unlocking the doors and replied, "Don't you think it would be better if I drove?"

He pulled his head back and squinted at her, debating whether to press the issue or not, when he noticed that she was giving him 'the look'.

"What?" It had been ages since she had given him 'the look', the one that told him he needed to rethink his actions. He was annoyed, but before he could conjure up a compelling argument to support his driving, she had quickly slid behind the wheel forcing him to move reluctantly to the passenger side. "Just get in the car Martin. I know where we are going. Besides you aren't listed as a driver on the car hire contract."

"Humph… "

As soon as he had sat down and buckled his seat belt, she reached for his hand and, tilting her head, gave him a loving smile, "Before we leave Mr. Ellingham, I just want to say that I am truly glad you are here. I know I already said it, but I always miss you when we are away."

He immediately recognised the repetition of their ritual greeting and tipped his head to the side, a fleeting smile crossing his lips as his eyes softened, and he leaned over to give her a delicate kiss, "Ah, yes, I miss you as well Mrs. Ellingham."

She squeezed his fingers and beamed at him, radiating her pleasure that he responded a second time to their special greeting even at this difficult time, "I do love you."

And then, without skipping a beat, she straightened up, all business now, and started the car, "We should be at hospital within a half-hour. Peter said he would meet us there. He is staying close to her bed on the ward in order to catch any doctor or nurse who may have information to share."

"Good. I'll just give him a text to contact me."

"Why don't you just call?"

"Cell phones aren't always reliable in hospital and can disrupt sensitive monitoring devices."

'Right. I forgot."

Soon enough, they reached the hospital, and Louisa dropped Martin off at the entrance where he had arranged to meet Peter. She parked the car and, after some searching around, found the two of them with Dr. Fonseca in a consultation room near Margaret's ward. He was sharing the scans they had taken of Margaret's stroke damaged brain and outlining their treatment protocol. She hung outside the doorway listening to the conversation, understanding a few words here and there. It was obvious that the prognosis wasn't good.

"We have started the standard protocols to reduce inflammation, are giving her fluids, and keeping her as comfortable as possible, but other than that we are not providing any sustenance or any additional treatment, in accordance with her advanced decision living will, and we have placed a 'do not resuscitate' order in her file. We will contact you immediately if there is any change in her condition."

"Thank you." Martin nodded to Dr. Fonseca. "I'd like to see her now … please."

"Certainly. I will take you to her ward."

They turned to leave the consultation room, and Martin noticed Louisa standing outside the door. He reached out for her hand; and as they walked down the hall, he confirmed that Margaret's prognosis wasn't good, but that he would know more once he examined her himself.

"They'll let you examine her?"

"Of course, I am a doctor."

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

"No need."

She peered over at him, his head down, his usual serious surgeon's expression settled on his face, and she decided there was nothing she could do at that moment to help, "Okay. I'll just run down to the canteen and get some tea. Come look for me there when you have finished."

Peter and Dr. Fonseca led the way, talking together earnestly as they walked down the hallway and entered Margaret's ward. Martin followed the two of them and made his way to his mother's bedside. Louisa waited a few steps away and caught Peter's eye as he and Dr. Fonseca were finishing their conversation. "I think we should give Martin a few minutes alone with Margaret. Let him say his good-byes."

Peter glanced over to where Martin was reviewing Margaret's chart and examining the monitors next to her bed. "Yes. That would be best."

"I told him I would wait for him in the canteen, maybe get some tea. Want to come with me?"

"I should get back to Ruth and the children."

Louisa sighed, "Yes, I suppose you should. I was telling Martin that I don't know what I would have done without the two of you." She reached out and hugged him tightly. "Thank you so much for helping out."

"I've been happy to help." Seeing the dismay in Louisa's eyes, he added in a brighter voice, "But you know, a cup of tea for the road would be good right now. Let's go."

It was close to an hour later that Martin found Louisa sitting by herself in a corner of the canteen. He sat down in a chair opposite, "I believe I've done all I am able here. Are you ready to go?"

Louisa tilted her head, wondering why he wasn't more forthcoming. Surely, he would understand that she needed more information. He was always this way, she knew that when they first married, but despite her hopes, he never learned to share more details. "You were there a long time, more than an hour. Did you discover anything the doctors here missed?"

"No, they all seem quite adequate to the job. She has had a massive stroke. Her vital organs are beginning to fail. There is nothing to be done. I expect she will pass sometime during the night."

"Will you want to be here when she goes?"

He drummed his fingers nervously on the table, "No need. She isn't conscious, she wouldn't be aware that anyone was by her side."

She leaned across the table with concern, "Are you sure?"

He stood up and reached for her hand, "Yes Louisa. I'm sure. Can we go now? I'd like to see the children."


	58. Chapter 58

**Chapter 58**

Louisa took Martin's hand as they walked towards the car park. He was sombre and distant and she was concerned for him. As they settled into the car and buckled their seat belts, he turned away to stare out the window. She reached over to him, stroking the side of his face softly, and he turned toward her. His eyes were red and there was a tear staining his cheek. She debated whether she should encourage him to talk. He was never one to share his feelings, but losing a mother, even one as distant and vicious as Margaret, was momentous and he might need to open up, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." He turned and looked out the front window, and then blurted, "Why?" Choking down a sob, he continued, "How can a mother hate her child?"

He turned back to face her as he pulled out his handkerchief and blotted his eyes. "I will never understand why she hated me so. How could anyone hate an infant?"

Louisa slowly shook her head in dismay, unable to answer him, not that he really wanted an answer. What he wanted, whether he knew it or not, was comforting. She unbuckled her seat belt and slid over to him, took him in her arms and stroked the back of his head, "I don't know."

He buried his face in her neck and clung to her as she rocked him back and forth. When he eventually started to pull away, she released him and ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him close to kiss away one last remaining tear. "All I know is that I am very grateful to her for giving you to me, the best husband I could ever have."

"Mmm … "He responded with one of his usual grunts, turning his head to the side. He sat up and straightened his shoulders, a sign that he was almost back to normal.

Once again, he was Martin Ellingham, master of his emotions. Even so, she couldn't resist giving him one last gesture of comfort, and she caressed his cheek before shifting back to her side of the car, "Shall we leave then?"

"Yes."

She turned on the car, drove out of the car park, and headed for the motorway. Soon enough they passed through the gate to Peter and Ruth's community, and Louisa pulled into an empty space near their flat and turned off the ignition. "Martin, there are several flats in this compound that are available for holiday lets, and I've arranged for us to use one of them through the end of the week-end. It has two bedrooms, one for us and one for the children. I thought that would be preferable to all of us trying to squeeze into my mum's house."

He unbuckled his seat belt and turned toward her, "Yes, Good thinking."

"And I didn't think it would be appropriate for us to commandeer your mum's place, not now anyway."

"God no."

She released the latch on her belt as well, "I packed up all of our things before we left my mum's place this morning, and I picked up the keys before I left for the airport. We can move into the flat whenever we feel like it this evening."

"Good."

"I suppose we will have to sell your mum's flat once she passes."

"Likely, but I don't know what arrangements she has made. I'll call the solicitor tomorrow after she dies."

Louisa reached over for his hand, "I know this is all very difficult and inconvenient for you, but I'm very happy to have you here."

He squeezed her hand, "Mmm …. It's fine …."

He was interrupted by knocking on the car door. He looked to see James and Robert standing there, grinning at him, with Joanie just a few steps behind straining against Ruth's hand. He opened the door to cries of "Daddy, Daddy."

"They have been watching out the window ever since you called to say you had left hospital. I couldn't keep them waiting inside any longer." Ruth shouted over the din.

"James," he leaned over to give his oldest a hug, then turned to Robert and Joanie and hugged each in turn. Joanie fiercely retuned his hug, wrapping her arms around his neck so that he nearly staggered as he rose. Carrying Joanie and holding Robert's hand, he walked away from the car towards the entrance to Ruth's flat.

"How did it go at hospital?" Ruth wanted to get Martin's opinion of Margaret's condition.

"As you would expect. It's not likely she will last the night."

Robert tugged on Martin's hand, "You can fix her Daddy, can't you?" Robert was certain that his Dad was a medical miracle worker.

"No, Robert. She is too sick for me to 'fix' her."

Robert found this information troubling and became very quiet, furrowing his brow in imitation of his father. Martin paused and gazed down at his son, "Perhaps we should go inside and we will discuss it there. Is that acceptable Robert?"

"I guess so."

James was following right behind his father and listening intently to every word. He turned to his mother and said, "Miss Margaret is really sick, isn't she mum … if Dad says he can't make her better."

"Yes, James. She is."

All were quiet as they followed Ruth into her flat. Peter was there to greet Martin and he too wanted an update, "How did you find her?"

Martin peered gravely at him and sighed, "I need a moment to freshen up and then I will tell all of you what I know about Margaret's condition. Can you point me towards your lavatory?"

He was absent for more than a few minutes and it was obvious when he returned, that he had washed his hands and face, and straightened his shirt and tie, generally making himself presentable. He returned to find Ruth, Peter, Louisa and the children all seated in the living room anxiously waiting for him to explain what was happening to Margaret.

Louisa knew Martin had this type of conversation with his patient's families nearly every day, but it was different this afternoon. It was his own family he was updating. She knew that this conversation would be difficult for him, and she watched as he pulled out a chair from the dining table and sat down.

He nodded towards Peter and began, "Peter has kept in contact with Margaret's doctors for the past two days and they have kept him informed as to the severity of her condition, so I believe you know that Margaret had a stroke and that it was quite serious. I spoke with her doctors, examined the scans they took when she first arrived yesterday afternoon, and then examined her myself. She experienced a massive haemorrhage in her brain." Looking at Robert, he elaborated, "That means that a blood vessel in her brain burst open and bled into her brain, which killed off many of her brain cells."

James would understand these details, but Martin had not spent as much time with Robert explaining how the body worked. He proceeded to provide some additional explanation for Robert's benefit. "Your brain controls the rest of your body. It tells your legs and arms to move and your lungs to breathe. If something happens to your brain, it can't tell the rest of your body what to do. Do you understand?"

He saw both James and Robert nod their heads so he continued, "I performed several tests to see if she responded to any outside stimuli, and she did not. I must agree with the doctors here that she has sustained significant damage to her brain, and as a result, she is experiencing complications. For instance, she cannot swallow and that has led to fluid building up in her lungs so that she is having trouble breathing."

Martin paused to assess whether he should continue or not, and he glanced to Louisa for guidance. She nodded in a sign to continue as needed. It was unlikely that Joanie understood any of what he was saying, but Louisa was comforting her. James was staring at the floor as Martin spoke, but raised his eyes when Martin paused with an expression that indicated he wanted his Dad to proceed. Robert was sitting next to Ruth, leaning into her side whilst holding her hand, and like James opened his eyes wider when Martin paused as if to say, "continue please." Did Robert really understand? He wasn't certain. He decided he might as well continue; let them all know what the next day held.

"A few years ago, Miss Margaret signed what we call an advance decision living will that said she didn't want any extraordinary measures taken to prolong her life if she was so sick or impaired that she wasn't expected to live and she couldn't tell the doctors what to do."

"Why would she do that?" James demanded to know.

"Because James, doctors are able to keep your body alive for long periods even if your brain has stopped functioning, even if your mind doesn't work anymore. Your soul, what makes you who you are has already gone and most people don't want the doctors to keep their body alive if there is no hope that they will get better. Miss Margaret is unconscious; she has some brain activity, but not much, and she won't wake up. The doctors and nurses are doing what they can to keep her comfortable, but she will die soon, perhaps some time tonight."

Louisa shifted her legs and tilted her head to the side to catch his attention, her eyes begging him to discontinue his discussion, and he acknowledged her unspoken request by finishing, "We will think of her tonight when we have our supper, and the hospital will contact me if her condition changes. In the meantime, I believe it would be a good idea to have some tea, and perhaps, take a short walk. Mummy tells me she has found a flat for us to stay in for the next few days. Perhaps we should walk over there and move our things in."

James wasn't quite ready to end the conversation, "Can we visit her?"

"I don't think so. They don't allow children in her ward."

"Why not. That's not fair."

Louisa had confided to Martin that James seemed to be very fond of Margaret and that he was taking her illness very hard. Martin cast his eyes downward for a few moments, "No it isn't. Tell you what, let's go over to our flat, give Graunty and Uncle Peter a few moments to themselves and I'll see if we can go visit her this evening. That way you can say good-bye."

James looked up at his Dad and shrugged his shoulders, in a move that reminded Louisa of Martin, "Thanks Dad. Can you call them now? I hope they will let us see her."

"Yes. I will call as soon as we get settled in our flat."


	59. Chapter 59

**Chapter 59**

Martin had just dismissed his patient and was making a few quick notes before calling in the next patient when Miss Newcross poked her head in the door. "Mr. Ellingham, Mrs. Ellingham called and wants you to call her as soon as you are able."

He looked up at her with concern as he pulled his mobile out of his breast pocket, "Did she say what it was about?"

"No, just that she wanted you to call. She sounded anxious."

 _Anxious_ , Miss Newcross had excellent social skills and if she sensed that Louisa was anxious, that meant that something had happened. Louisa would never call him during the day unless there was an emergency. A thousand nightmare scenarios flashed though his mind as he pressed her number on his phone's speed dial. He could feel his muscles tense and his chest tighten as he steeled himself for bad news, one of the children badly hurt, or maybe all of them.

He leaned over his desk, supporting his weight with his free hand, as he heard her answer, "Martin."

"Louisa?"

"Your … Miss Margaret has had a stroke."

"Thank God". The words were out before he had a chance to think. He had feared the worst, but it was only his mother. If something had happened to Louisa or one of their children, he didn't think he could bear it. He had always felt that his role as a husband and father was completely separate from his primary identity as a surgeon and researcher. That was who he was, just as he had been when he first saw Louisa in hospital all those years ago. He loved Louisa deeply and cared profoundly for each of his children, but they were separate from the man who headed up Vascular …. Or so he always thought until one of the children was hurt or sick and his heart felt like a vise in his chest, clamping tight in fear. That was when he knew he could never live without any one of them, and that was how he felt that afternoon when he received Louisa's message. His entire body was shaking until she reassured him that they were all fine. It always surprised him, how strongly he was bound by the ties to his wife and children.

It was his mother who had fallen ill. It was inevitable that her health would fail someday. It was with a sense of resignation that he accepted the need for him to consult with her doctors and fly to Portugal to supervise her care in her final hours. He had hoped that she would pass quickly of a heart attack or a massive stroke at night, relieving him and Ruth of the need to provide care, but she was never considerate of others. Louisa would tell him that his feelings were uncharitable. Perhaps they were, but he couldn't control his feelings, only his behaviour.

He would speak with Ruth or Peter when they had something to share. Until then he would finish up with his patients that afternoon, and ask Miss Newcross to reschedule the remaining consultations for the week and to make a plane reservation to Portugal for late the next morning. He should be able to arrive at his mother's hospital by one pm if all went well. But Louisa had one more request, "Would he speak with Joanie and reassure her that all would be well?"

"Of course." How could he deny that request?

"Hi Daddy?" Her gentle voice whispered into his ear.

"Hello Joanie. How are you?"

"It's scary here Daddy. Can you come take us home?"

'Mmm. Hospitals can be noisy with people rushing back and forth. Is that what is scary?"

"Yes."

"Mmm … remember that all those people are working hard to make their patients better, just like I do every day in my hospital. Even though it is noisy and scary, you are safe with Mummy and James and Robert. I will be there tomorrow after lunch, but until then, I need you to be brave. Do you understand?"

"Uh huh."

"I love you very much. Can you ask Mummy to give you a hug for me? And I will see you tomorrow. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And don't forget I love you."

"I love you too Daddy."

"Can you give the phone back to Mummy. I need to tell her one more thing."

After he spoke again with Louisa, he rang off and called Miss Newcross into his office to make arrangements for the remainder of the week. An hour or so later, Peter called him with the information that indeed Margaret had had a haemorrhagic stroke and was now unconscious.

"I've spoken with the doctor who is supervising her care, a Dr. Silvio Fonseca. I believe you spoke with him when your father first consulted you about his stroke several years ago."

'Mmm … the name rings a bell. Do you have his contact information? I'd like to speak with him this afternoon or evening."

"Yes, it's …"

"Better yet, why don't you text it to my mobile. That way I'll have it where I can find it."

"Yes, yes I'll do that as soon as we ring off. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No …. Uh …. How do you think Louisa is coping with all this? I hate that she and the children are burdened with this situation."

"As well as can be expected. Don't worry about them. Ruth has taken them all back to our flat until Louisa's mother closes her shop. I managed to convince her that I would be in a better position to interpret anything the medical staff might have to share with the family, and that I might be able to wangle even more information from them than she could."

"Of course. Good. I'm glad she agreed to let you take over. She can be stubborn at times."

Peter chuckled, "Yes. All the Ellingham women can be stubborn, I've discovered."

'Yes. I suppose they are." Martin paused for a moment. "Uh … Peter. Uh … thank you for stepping in like this."

"Actually, I'm enjoying staying behind, observing the Portuguese way of managing their high dependency units."

"Good. I will let you know if I learn anything of value after I speak with this Dr. …"

"Fonseca. I'll send you the contact information immediately. Good-bye for now Martin."

When Martin called Dr. Fonseca after he finished with his consultations, the doctor confirmed that his mother's condition was grave. He wasn't certain that she would last another day. Martin requested that no extreme measures should be taken to extend her life and agreed to fax her advance decision living will authorising that course of action. After his father's illness had impressed upon his mother the necessity of such a document, she had been quite amenable to having end of life documents drafted and signed. She even had their family attorney draft a will directing the distribution of whatever assets she might have remaining upon her death. Martin had no idea what was in her will. He assumed they would find out in due course. The family attorney would be the executor. Christopher might have agreed to have Martin administer his estate, but Margaret had made other arrangements. He assumed that she didn't want or trust him to carry out her wishes. He never really knew why she behaved towards him as she did. It was surprising that she designated him to make decisions regarding her care if she were unable to do so. He supposed she trusted his integrity and knowledge as a doctor. There could be no other reason.

Martin arrived the next day to find that his mother's condition had not changed. He looked over her medical charts and conferred with her doctors, asking that they keep him apprised of her condition. He returned to spend a few minutes alone with her next to her bed in the ward; it seemed the honourable thing to do whilst she lay dying. He pulled the curtain around her bed, sat down in the chair reserved for visitors, and contemplated the woman before him, the woman who had given birth to him over fifty years ago. Should he feel at least some token of affection, sadness or sorrow in her final hours. No, he couldn't conjure up any of those sentiments, only relief, relief that soon she would be out of his life forever. He bid her adieu. Perhaps God, if there were one, would be more compassionate towards her than he could be.

 _Louisa had picked him up at the airport to drive him to hospital, leaving the children with Ruth and Peter. He was grateful that she was alone; for, despite the sad business of his mother's dying, he was glad to see her, and he greeted her as he nearly always did when they had been apart. "Hello, Mrs. Ellingham."_

 _She responded in kind, "Hello Mr. Ellingham. I've missed you."_

 _He reached out and enfolded her in a tight embrace ignoring the bustle of the other travellers swirling into the arrivals hall, and then held her hand as they wove their way toward the car park. He had packed a small carry-on bag with enough clothing changes to last through the weekend so there was no need to wait at baggage claim._

 _Louisa had stopped by hospital to check on Margaret on her way to the airport. He asked her for an update. "She's still in a coma. I know just enough Portuguese to understand the nursing staff report that she was unresponsive all night although her vitals are still strong. They are giving her fluids, but she can't eat anything."_

 _Martin nodded his understanding and added, "I've spoken with her doctor and he tells me her prognosis is not good. She is unresponsive to physical stimuli, which indicates substantial loss of brain cells. I sent them her advance decision not to use any extraordinary life sustaining protocols. I will have a better idea of her prognosis once I've examined her myself."_

" _Will they allow you to examine her?"_

" _Of course. I'm a doctor and I am responsible for her care."_

When he finished with his mother, Martin went searching for Louisa and found her in the canteen, nursing a cup of tea. He gave her a short update and the two of them walked out to the car park to go join Ruth and the children. The visit with his mother had been emotionally draining. He was exhausted and he wanted nothing more than to spend some time alone to sort his thoughts. A long walk on the beach near Ruth's flat would do his soul good, but he knew he had to face the family first, and he braced himself for their questions.

As he settled into the car, he turned to look out the side window, hoping that Louisa would understand that he needed some space. She was usually quite perceptive, reading his body language accurately, but not today. She reached over to touch his cheek and asked if he wanted to talk.

"No." Of course he didn't want to talk; he never wanted to talk; didn't she understand that by now? It was easier to bury the feelings and move on. But try as he might, he couldn't keep the emotions in check, and he blurted out the source of his lifelong misery, "Why? Why did she hate me so?"

He could feel the tears trickling out of his eyes, and he pulled out his handkerchief to blot them away. As he did, she slid over and took him in her arms, and he completely lost control burying his face in her neck as she rocked him like a child. As humiliating as it was for his wife to see him so distraught, it was also consoling; and as he felt the misery of his emotions ease, he pushed her away and sat up straight.

That was his signal that they must leave and join the family, and she started the car and drove out of the airport car park. It was chaotic when they arrived, with the children clamouring to see him, almost knocking him over with the exuberance of their greeting. Their happiness, their sheer joy at his arrival was contagious, and it almost swept away the heartache that had been eating at his soul since leaving hospital.

They made their way into Ruth's flat and he took a few minutes to compose himself before updating the family of his examination of Margaret. As he was telling them of her condition, he watched the expressions on all their faces. James followed his every word, but he felt the need to clarify some of the medical terms for Robert. It was apparent that Robert was ready to learn more about the medical field. Robert would occasionally join James in his study in the evenings when he would discuss his work, but he hadn't properly encouraged his interest. He vowed that would change starting this summer when he would give Robert his first frog to dissect. Yes, the three of them could have many profitable hours working together on all sorts of scientific explorations, not just medical. And in due course, they would include Joanie if she was interested.

The flat Louisa had rented for the next few days was a short walk from Ruth and Peter's flat, and it took only a few minutes to unload the car and carry their bags into the flat and settle the children. It was nearly time for their evening meal, but Martin felt the need for some private time. The children had found a pack of playing cards and were engaged in a game of 'Fish', and Louisa was unpacking the children's clothing in their bedroom. He looked in on her and told her that he needed to stretch his legs and promised to return within a few minutes. He slipped out the door without the children noticing and strode in the direction of the ocean. The air was brisk and fresh and it felt good just walking through the compound.

The grounds were covered with profusions of colourful flowers spilling out over the pavements, but he hardly noticed. His thoughts were with the tasks he must face the next day. First there was the one last visit to his mother's bedside with James and Robert. He was a bit disconcerted at James' request to visit with Margaret in hospital. But Louisa had told him of the special bond between the two, and he knew it was important to Louisa that he try to satisfy James' request. The bond that his son had developed with his mother was unfathomable to him. The woman had always been so hateful to him; how could she be kind to his offspring. It was a mystery.

He was certain that his mother would pass sometime during the night. He certainly hoped she wouldn't linger into the next day. Once she had passed, there would be the call to the mortuary in London to make the arrangements. Should they have the body cremated here in Portugal or should they transport the body to England. He was hopeful that the undertakers would handle all the necessary logistical arrangements; after all that was what they were paid to do. He would agree to whichever procedure they recommended.

After tomorrow, they would have one more day in Portugal before it was time to return to their home in England. He would have to check in every few hours with his team back in London. He could only hope there were no major emergencies whilst he was out of the country. He had tapped Brindall to fill in for him, but it was a last-minute appointment. Brindall was competent, but Martin hadn't had time to brief him on all the current patient complications that required close attention.

He was looking forward to spending time with the family once the arrangements for his mother were completed, and he hoped Louisa would find some activity that they could all share that wouldn't involve joining the children in the pool or the ocean, not this trip. They would have to spend at least a few hours socialising with Louisa's mother and her partner. There was no way he could beg off that. He would make sure Louisa understood that he needed a quiet weekend, without any manic socialising. Despite the relief he knew he would feel once his mother passed, at this point he was still tense with the emotions that her imminent death had stirred up.

He reached the ocean and stood at the edge of the grass where it met the sand. The tide, with its rush to shore and retreat back to the sea, had always been soothing, one of the benefits of frequent visits to Cornwall; he was looking to find the same solace here in southern Portugal. But today the normally calm sea had turned choppy and rising swells were pummelling the shoreline. It was late afternoon and there appeared to be a storm brewing offshore with a blustery wind coming in off the sea, rustling the leaves of the trees under which he was standing. The surf was anything but calming, and the energy inherent in the impending storm made him feel alive, thrilling his spirit with the freedom he was about to secure, a release from the shackles with which his mother had always bound his psyche.

He paced along the edge of the grass, mentally revisiting his arrival at Ruth's that afternoon and his children's greeting, the surprise he felt when they swarmed him as soon as he and Louisa arrived. He shouldn't have been surprised. They were always pleased to see him when he arrived home each evening, grabbing on to him, anxious to tell him about their day. His mother had hated him all her life, but his children seemed to love him unconditionally. It was puzzling. Even Louisa, as they were in the car, had said that he was the best husband she could have had. It suddenly dawned on him that he was deserving of that love, that his mother's hatred of him had sprung entirely from the depths of her character and that it had nothing to do with him.

Yes, he was a man someone could love, a man who was loved. His mother, and his father as well, were unable to love a child. It wasn't anything inherent in his composition or character, and that knowledge, deep in his soul, was liberating, life changing. Years of therapy had convinced him of that fact, intellectually he knew that was the case; but it wasn't until just that moment, with the images in his mind of the family that he loved and who loved him back, that he accepted it as truth. He sat down on a nearby bench and ran his fingers through his hair, basking in the wonder of that understanding until it was time to return and join his family, the family that loved him.


	60. Chapter 60

**Chapter 60**

Asking permission had never been part of his personal playbook; but, given the respect the Portuguese doctors had accorded him when he consulted with them about his mother and their accommodation of all that he had asked so far, he decided it would be considerate to notify them that he intended to bring his two sons to visit their grandmother before she died. "Grandmother", he hated using that word for Margaret, but he knew it would be the key to gaining access for James and Robert. And it worked; the staff practically tripped over themselves to permit the two young boys to say good-bye to their "grandmother". He made certain that the staff knew that they referred to her as Miss Margaret, not as grandmother. He didn't want either of the boys questioning him about her relationship to their family.

Peter offered to drive them over since Martin wasn't listed as one of the drivers on Louisa's car hire. That way Louisa could stay home and help Joanie prepare for bed. Martin didn't think they would be in hospital long. He had cautioned the boys that they could only stay for a minute or two at the most. He guided them into the ward where Margaret lay, and James moved straight to Margaret's bedside and reached out for her hand. "Be careful not to disturb the line." Martin cautioned him.

"I know Dad."

"Hello Miss Margaret. I'm sorry you are so sick. Dad says you won't get better, but if you can hear me, maybe you can try. He looked up at Martin and exclaimed, "Dad, she squeezed my hand"

"Mmm … probably just an involuntary reflex."

James wasn't ready to give up. "Maybe she knows it's me." He turned back to Margaret. "We came to say good-bye. I will miss seeing you when we visit Portugal."

He turned back to let Robert say his good-bye and Robert went over to the bed and dutifully said,  
"Good-bye Miss Margaret. Try to get better."

When Robert finished, Martin took his hand and guided the boys out of the room. James suddenly turned around and said, 'Dad, I need to tell her one more thing." And he rushed back to her bedside while Martin waited with Robert near the ward's entrance.

James leaned over Margaret's bed and whispered, 'Miss Margaret. I know you are dad's mum and that you and he don't like each other. I wish you did. He is the best Dad ever, and I think you would have been a good grandmother."

Martin knew that they needed to leave the ward and he trailed behind James back to Margaret's bed to hurry him along. He arrived just in time to hear James say "best Dad ever". That forced him to stop suddenly, "Best Dad ever." Could he mean that? Yes, he knew that James loved him as a father, but "best dad ever?" He tucked his head into his neck and stared at his shoes, and felt tears welling up. He bit his lips together to hide his emotion. He noticed that James had continued to speak with her, although he didn't hear what he said, and then he left her side and returned to Martin and Robert. "Okay, we can go."

He nodded gravely at his son, "Yes. Peter is waiting for us at the hospital entrance."

Later that night as he was tucking James into bed, he asked, "What was it you said to Margaret just before we left? Do you want to tell me?"

James' face took on a serious aspect, "Miss Margaret is your mother, isn't she Dad?"

James was an astute observer, so he shouldn't have been surprised that he had divined the relationship. Still, even though he was disconcerted at the question, he knew that he must answer truthfully, "Yes, she gave birth to me."

"But you don't visit her."

"No."

"Why not?"

Martin sighed. This was a conversation he had hoped never to have. "James, not all mothers love their children like your mum does. Miss Margaret was one of those mothers that don't. She never loved me, even when I was a baby. I don't know why, but she didn't."

"Mum says she was mean to you."

"When did she say that?" How dare Louisa discuss his childhood with James?

"I heard her talking with Graunty one time and Graunty said she was mean to you."

'Yes."

"Is that why you didn't visit her."

"Yes." There was no need to elaborate. James didn't need to know about his being locked in the cupboard under the stairs, about her yelling at him when he wet the bed or when other children bullied him. He didn't need to know about how she let his Dad beat him with his belt for asking too many questions or interrupting him while he was working.

"James, the good thing is that your mother loves you and Robert and Joanie very much and she will never be mean to you. She will always want what is best for you; and when you are grown up, she will always be happy to visit with you. She and I will always love you. Never forget that."

'I won't Dad. I love you and mum too." James sat up in his bed and wrapped his arms around Martin's chest for a long and lingering hug until Martin pulled him away and lay him back down on the bed. He stroked his cheek with the back of his hand as he had been doing since James was a baby and then, he leaned over and gave his cheek a kiss, "Goodnight James."

Martin rose from the side of James' bed and went out of the room, closing the door behind him. Louisa was reading a book on the couch in the flat's lounge and looked up as he closed the children's bedroom door. "Is everything alright?"

He sat down next to her and picked up her hand and started rubbing her palm, 'Yes."

She waited for him to continue, "James told me that he knew Margaret was my mother."

"Oh dear."

"He said that he heard you and Ruth discussing her behaviour towards me when I was a child."

'Yes. He asked me a while back if she was your mother, and I couldn't lie to him. When he asked why you didn't visit, I just told him that your parents didn't want you around when you were little and that you were still sad about it."

"Why didn't you tell me about that."

Louisa looked down, and then away, "I don't know. It's all so tragic and sad, I just didn't want to upset you, I guess."

"Mmm … "

"I guess I hoped James would be satisfied with my answer and it would all go away."

"Yes." It was about to go away now, thank god. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to his side and leaned his head against hers. He thought back to his own farewell to his mother as he sat next to her bed after he had completed his checks and confirmed that she was near death.

 _He closed her notes and began to speak, "Well Mum, here we are. Your time has come. Will there be anyone to grieve for you once you breathe your last? Certainly, I won't. Your death will be a relief, knowing that I will never have to face the look of disgust on your face whenever you see me and that I will never hear your disparaging remarks ever again._

 _I will never understand why you didn't love me, how you could just pass your infant off to the succession of nannies that passed through our house. Was there something missing in your emotional makeup, some genetic flaw in your DNA that prevented you from reacting the way most parents do when they first see their new-born? Research has shown that, when a woman gives birth, there is a surge of oxytocin, the love hormone, and other hormones that stimulate her brain to respond to her infant with love and care. It happens to men as well. With each of my own children, the bond was immediate; the surge of love and care that I felt when I first held them overwhelmed me."_

 _He paused, blinking to hold back the tears that were welling up despite his attempt to maintain his stoicism. "And these same studies have shown that there are some women who don't respond to the sight of their infants with that surge of hormones. Perhaps that happened to you. But I don't think so. You were more than indifferent to me, you seemed to take a perverse pleasure in rejecting and belittling me. I've long since come to accept that you never wanted a child, and that you would have treated any child you had with disdain. It wasn't personal, it wasn't me in particular that you couldn't abide. I just happened to be the child you bore and upon whom you heaped your anger and animosity._

 _For years I thought it was me, that I was unlovable. But then Louisa found me. She fell in love with me. She still loves me. I know that you would attribute that to some material or status seeking need of hers, married to a highly successful London surgeon. That was why you married Dad. But you would be wrong. She accepts me for who I am, and she loves me for it. I do everything I can to make her happy … which by the way, doesn't mean expensive jewellery or fancy trips abroad._

 _You may have been the first woman in my life, but thank god, you were not the last. I had Joan who loved me as her own child when you allowed me to visit her farm. She was more of a mother to me than you ever were and I loved her as a son loves his mother, and I miss her every day of my life. And I have Ruth who loved me in her own way, and who still loves me and my family in ways you would never understand. And I have Louisa and our daughter, little Joanie. Yes, she is only five and she has me wrapped around her little finger … most of the time. I am aware of that, but I am her father and we will always have that bond._

 _There are many other women in my life who are fond of me, Louisa's mother and my assistant Ms Newcross, and many others, Chris Parsons' wife, Michelle for one. I have not always recognized their affection, but Louisa assures me that it is there."_

 _He leaned back in the chair and sighed. Then rising, he exhaled, "Good-bye Mum."_

It had been an exhausting day. He pulled Louisa closer and kissed the top of her head. "Perhaps we should prepare for bed."

She wrapped her arm around his chest and snuggled closer to him. "Yes, I suppose we should. It's been a long day." She snuggled in closer, "I have been thinking about tomorrow. I know you will probably be busy making provisions to send your mother back to England. I will need to keep the children busy. My mother will be free late in the afternoon and we should spend a few hours with her. I think I will let the children play in the pool here; it's heated so they shouldn't get chilled. It may be too cold on the beach.  
I also need to clean out your mother's refrigerator. She had prepared tea for us, and we didn't have time to eat it. Her flat is usually clean and tidy, so we may not need to call in cleaners before we go home, but we also don't want any food left that could spoil." Louisa shuddered, 'Ugh."

"No. I can clean out the flat if need be."

She slipped her hand under his suit and lightly brushed her fingers along the buttons of his shirt, "It might be nice if you spent some time with the children. They would like that."

"Mmm … I would like that also, but I wouldn't want to spend time in the pool. I didn't think to bring swim trunks, but I could definitely supervise for a while if you'd like." He considered whether he would actually enjoy playing with the children in the pool. He had done that once or twice on family vacations and had felt very self-conscious. Somehow, he didn't think he would feel that way anymore. He sensed that his mother's passing changed everything. It was as if a leaded weight or a heavy veil had been lifted from his life and he was free now to experience joy without fear of reproach.

"That's too bad. They would love having you in the pool with them."

"Yes. Perhaps later I could take them for a walk on the beach. I'd like that."

Louisa smiled up at him, and he could tell that she was happy with him. He meant what he had said to his mother. He will continue to do whatever he can to make his wife happy because when she is happy, he is happy too. Yes, happy. He smiled back at her and reached down to give her a delicate kiss. "Let's go to bed." He rose and gave her his hand.

As they walked hand in hand out of the living room, his mobile rang, and they paused. "Ellingham."

He was quiet for a moment, "Yes. Thank you for calling. I will contact you tomorrow as soon as I have made arrangements to return the body to England."

"Mmm. Right."

He rang off and sighed, "It's over."

Louisa reached over to brush her fingers against his arm, "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Let's get some rest." He picked her hand back up and they slowly walked on to open the door to look in on the children. Satisfied that all was well, they quietly closed the door. Before stepping over into their room, Martin pulled her to him and declared in a soft whisper, "Louisa, I love you."

She smiled and reached up to kiss him, then replied, "I love you too."

He smiled back, wrapped his arms around her, and released a long contented sigh, "I know."


	61. Chapter 61

**Epilogue**

Margaret felt at peace. Perhaps she should have been concerned as she heard Louisa call for an ambulance and the attendants carry her out, but none of it seemed to matter now. Images floated through her mind, the dress she wore to her first cotillion, Christopher when he first made love to her, the candles on the altar when she and Chris were married, the view of Paris from the top of the Eiffel tower one night when they were younger. Yes, they had had a good marriage. Even after Martin was born and Christopher had strayed, he had always made sure she was respected as the wife of a prominent surgeon. She had a good life, the parties, the galas she had organized to raise funds for various hospital needs. She was highly regarded as the head of the hospital auxiliary, everyone always said she was the best president they had ever had. The recognition, the prestige, it was all any woman could ask for.

And Christopher's money. There was always plenty of that for couture clothing, meals at the best restaurants, good seats at all the best theatres, travel to exotic locales. The best of everything.

The only disappointment was their son whose image floated swiftly in, over and past her other more pleasant visions. No need to dwell on him.

She felt disconnected from her body, there were no physical boundaries, as if she and the universe were one and she felt a peace unlike any she had felt before. Every now and then, voices interrupted her reverie pulling her back into her body, the pain in her head intense. She supposed she might be dying, was that what was happening? She wondered if she would go through into the light, the bright white light. That was what everyone said who had a near death experience. Not yet, it seemed. Voices from outside her body seemed busy, intruding on the peace she felt. It was lovely, very peaceful except for the occasional disruption, jostling her out of her dreams. Voices. Was that Martin? "your death will be a relief" … what kind of thing is that to say to your mother? What does he know? I'll be glad to never see him again as well. "Why didn't you love me?" Still whinging. He was never the kind of child that a mother could love. That's all there was to it.

Quiet again. He must be gone. Images of James crossed her mind. Now there was a child that any mother could love, so handsome and polite. She could still see the picture he had drawn and given her when he was a small boy. It sat in a frame next to her bed. He was a child that she could proudly show off to her friends along with his younger brother and sister. Beautiful children. Joanie was just adorable. Everyone always said so. Why did they have to name her after Christopher's uncouth sister, a farmer's wife. So embarrassing.

"Hello Miss Margaret." James, am I hearing James? She needed to let him know she was listening, but she couldn't speak. She tried to press her fingers into his hand. "I wish you liked my Dad. He is the best dad ever." No, no James, he isn't. She needed to tell him, but now he was gone.

It was just as well. All was quiet now and peaceful. Maybe they would leave her alone. Beautiful colours, a sunset. She could see the sun setting, the sky turning a brilliant red, vermilion, almost on fire. She could feel her energy merging into the energy of the universe. The light was coming closer and she could feel its warmth, its heat. Everyone was wrong. It wasn't a bright white light. That would have been cold. This crimson light was warm, hot, getting hotter. The heat was intense and then suddenly all was dark.

THE END

 **Author's note: I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I find that I am sad to leave these characters behind, but it's time. Many thanks to my regular reviewers. I thought to name them all but decided against that for fear I would leave someone out. I know it takes time to leave a thoughtful comment, and I truly appreciate the feedback. You may never know how much your comments helped shape the story and how they encouraged me to keep at it. Take care all of you.**


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